


Of Wands and Staves

by Nahiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, rampant and unashamed OOC-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahiel/pseuds/Nahiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gentleman Johnny Marcone is used to doing favors for friends and family. When a distant relation in England asks him to handle the problem of a small six-year-old boy, John chooses to adopt him rather than kill him. As it happens, the child in question is an untrained wizard and needs a tutor. Enter Harry Dresden, stage left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I’m pretty sure all of my characters are at least a little bit OOC in this story. I’m genuinely okay with that.

As a rule John was not overly fond of London, or the countryside surrounding it. For one thing, it was a filthy, dreary place with little to draw his attention. For another, it wasn’t his city. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of an English suburbia, getting ready to find out just what it was that his dear distant cousin Vernon needed from him this time.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Hendricks said, loyal as always.

And no, John supposed that he didn’t have to go into the tiny, immaculate house before him if he so chose. But. But Vernon had loaned him a substantial sum of money when he had first begun his climb to the tops of the ranks in Chicago. And of course John had more than paid him back for the kindness, but Vernon was family. And that meant that he should be happy to do a favor for a family member, no matter what that favor may be. His whole operation ran on favors done for friends and allies, after all.

“Thank you for that, but I really do,” he answered, and stepped up to the door. He rapped politely and waited for a response.

He didn’t have long to wait.

He heard his cousin’s son long before the door opened, thundering down the stairs like a particularly obnoxious herd of elephants. John fought to keep the sneer from his face, and instead smiled politely when the massive boy flung the door open. Dudley should be about six now, if his memory served him correctly.

The boy wrinkled his nose at him. “Dad! Your cousin’s here!” he shouted, and then ran back into the house. Honestly, with as big as the child was, John was rather impressed that he could run at all, much less as quickly as he had.

Petunia, Vernon’s wife, appeared in the doorway before too long. “Thank you so much for coming, John,” she simpered.

John offered her the same polite smile he’d given to their son. “It wasn’t a problem, Petunia,” he said graciously. “Your husband sounded quite... distraught over the phone when we spoke.”

Distraught was the wrong word, and yet, it seemed to be the only word that John could think of. Vernon had seemed agitated, upset, and horrified all at once. John had not a single clue what could have caused his incredibly boring cousin such an upset.

“Yes, well, we’ve a matter of a delicate nature that we wanted to discuss with you,” Petunia said awkwardly, and ushered John and Hendricks into the perfectly normal house.

“John! You’ve made it! How was your flight?” Vernon asked, coming forward to pump John’s hand.

John allowed it, and stifled his distaste. His cousin had a thick, meaty hand that was moist, likely with nerves. Whatever it was that his cousin wanted from him, it was making the man incredibly uncomfortable. “The flight was fine,” John answered. “We hit a bit of turbulence, but nothing too terrible.”

Vernon led them into the sitting room, then, and John settled onto the overstuffed, incredibly uncomfortable chair. Hendricks stood behind him, an imposing figure. Petunia served them tea, and John was privately amused to realize that Petunia’s tea was every bit as bitter as he’d recalled it being.

He’d only just taken a sip when Vernon blurted out, “We’ve got a problem we need you to take care of for us.”

John settled his teacup back in its saucer and set it on the table. “I’m quite experienced in dealing with problems, Vernon,” he answered. “Tell me how I can help you. After all, we’re family.”

“You see, it’s just that we’ve got this pest problem,” Vernon began, shifting awkwardly on the couch. “We were hoping that you could... take care of it... for us.”

John sighed. He’d assumed it was something of that nature. Why did his English relations all assume that he was in the habit of assassinating people? He was not a hired hitman, and he was getting a little bit tired of people assuming that he was. “Vernon, I don’t really-”

“Please! You don’t understand! He’s a no good, dirty little freak, and we won’t have his freakishness around Dudley any longer! He’s a monster!” Petunia shrieked suddenly, her shrill voice making John cringe.

“If it’s a matter of getting Dudley’s school changed,” John began.

He was cut off when Vernon shook his head. “The freak lives with us. John, we thought that we could deal with it, that we could somehow work the freakishness out of him, but it just isn’t working! Please, you have to take care of it for us.”

John was starting to get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Show me,” he commanded, not entirely sure that he wanted to be shown anything at all. He had a feeling that whatever he saw would only serve to make him very angry with his distant cousin.

He wasn’t wrong. Petunia and Vernon went over to an unnoticed door under their stairs, and Petunia unlatched the lock. Vernon flung the door open and reached inside, and jerked out a skinny, waif-like child with messy black hair, a dark lightning-bolt shaped scar, and green eyes that were so despairing that they broke John’s heart. The boy was dressed in what had to have been Dudley’s clothing, which hung off of him.

“He’s a monster, John, and we need him taken care of,” Vernon said, holding the boy tightly by one arm.

John closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted down from ten. “I don’t kill children,” he said flatly, “But I’ll make you a deal. I won’t kill him, but I will take him from you. I’ll bring him home with me.” He didn’t even stop to think about just how exactly he was going to raise a child in his line of work. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to leave the child here to suffer.

“You’ll take him?” Vernon repeated, sounding as though he was actually considering the matter. The little boy whimpered and tried to pull away, and Vernon wrenched his arm viciously enough that John could hear the child’s bones crack. He had to fight down the urge to get up and jerk the child away from his brute of a cousin.

“I’ll take him,” John said, and motioned to Hendricks. “Contact Ms. Carson and see who she recommends in England to handle this matter swiftly and discreetly,” he commanded. Hendricks left the room, presumably already dialing her number.

After that, it didn’t take long. What should have taken weeks, if not longer, to complete took only a matter of hours. It helped that the Dursleys as a family were quite eager to wash their hands of the waif, it helped that the waif himself, apparently named Harry Potter, had no desire to stay with his adopted family, and it certainly helped that John was entirely willing to throw money at the problem until it was swiftly resolved.

Six hours from entering the Dursley household, Gentleman Johnny Marcone left with a six-year-old boy’s fragile hand held within his own, and an entirely new set of responsibilities to manage. But John was not one to walk away from a responsibility, and he was certain that no matter how bad a job he might do raising the child, he certainly wouldn’t ever lock the boy in a cupboard under the stairs.


	2. Chapter One

Regan answered on the first ring. “You don’t normally contact me, John,” she said in a voice like a bar at midnight.

“I don’t normally do business in your neck of the woods,” John said quietly. “But today, I think I might need to.”

Harry had been with John for three days, and John had been unable to coax him into talking once. Hell, he could barely get the child to eat. He seemed to think that his food would be taken from him the moment it was offered, and it was breaking John’s heart. Especially when he considered that the problem wasn’t due to a lack of food, considering both Vernon’s and Dudley’s girth.

“Need to, huh?” He heard her shifting, taking a drag of a cigarette. “What’s the story, then, Johnny? How can old Regan help you?”

“I’ve taken in a child,” John began, “and he’s damaged. Badly. I find the thought of allowing those who so badly damaged him to go free absolutely abhorrent, and I really need that taken care of.”

Regan’s breath left her in a hiss. “And they’re in my neck of the woods, you say?” she asked, in a voice like winter.

John knew her history quite well. He knew of the father that had taken all he could from her before throwing her out into the street, pregnant and alone. He knew of the mother who had beaten her in a futile rage because she couldn’t beat her husband and she couldn’t stop him from attacking her daughter. And he knew of the younger sister who hadn’t survived the same treatment. Really, it was dirty pool calling her with this.

“In Surrey. Number Four, Privet Drive, to be specific. Shall I send over the usual fee?” he asked, already logging into his bank account.

Regan chuckled. “As it happens, I’m already in the area on unrelated business,” she said. “No, don’t send me anything, John. This one? This one I’ll handle for free. It’ll be fun.”

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

“Oh no, thank you John,” she murmured. “Just remember to think of me the next time you have business over here. I’ll send you a message when it’s handled.”

The phone went dead in his ear, and John smiled. Seven hours later, an email popped up in his inbox directing him to a news site that had an article about two members of the Dursley family who were murdered in a home invasion gone horribly wrong. The son, it was said, was going to live with an Aunt who lived out in the country and raised dogs.

Good. Maybe she wouldn’t let him continue to gorge himself so as to die of a heart attack at twenty-three.

His personal mission accomplished, John gladly went back to filling out routine paperwork. The day was already looking up now that he didn’t have to worry about the Dursleys any longer.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry was an absolutely adorable little boy. In the two weeks that the child had been in his care, John had seen nothing to justify the Dursley’s treatment of him. Not that John really believed that anything could justify such treatment, but he’d certainly expected something. But the child seemed completely normal.

Okay, so maybe normal was a bit of a strong word.

It had taken John almost a week to get the little one to talk once they’d left the Dursleys. The dam of silence had broken only when Harry had shattered a glass as he’d gone to pour himself some water, and then there was no stopping the flood of tears and apologies. It had taken John over an hour to get him settled down, and even then he’d still apologized later in the evening. It had been heartbreaking.

It had been terrible, but it was the incident that had occurred only three days later that had truly frightened John. Admittedly, it was entirely John’s fault. He’d been... handling a small matter that had involved somebody selling information of John’s to somebody else. The handling of the matter had, as tended to happen, gotten a bit bloody. Which would have all been fine, because John was used to matters like that, but Harry had spotted him before he’d had a chance to clean up. What had followed was... well, meltdown seemed like too weak a word to describe Harry’s panic.

Harry had hidden under his bed for two whole days.

It was about then that John decided that maybe a therapist might be in order.

ooOOooOOoo

“You must understand, Mr. Marcone, the child is in a very delicate stage right now,” Dr. Mallory Pierce murmured as she flipped through her notes. She had ginger hair pulled into a loose bun, and her face was splashed with freckles. She wore no makeup, and her clothing was casual at best. But she was one of the most highly recommended child psychologists in Chicago, and John could care less about her appearance if she could help his new charge.

“Yeah, thanks, I got that,” John shot back before he could stop himself. He was exhausted. Harry had screamed all through the night and hadn’t allowed John to comfort him at all. He’d tried just after he’d put Harry to bed and Harry had actually spent the rest of the night in his closet as a response. He rubbed at his brow and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes you did,” Dr. Pierce said, but she sounded amused. “You’ve taken on a very tough case, Mr. Marcone,” she said, grim and unhappy. “I won’t break his confidence, of course, but there was a lot of... severe abuse.”

“I hadn’t guessed,” John muttered. “Is there anything specific I should be doing? Anything that I might not think of that you believe would be particularly beneficial?”

“Well, I would start with not letting him see you either angry or bloodied,” she said in a voice as dry as the Sahara. “I know that you’ve already made that mistake once. Don’t do it again. And... hmm...” She paused, considered her notes, and said, “I’d recommend homeschooling him for now, maybe with scheduled play dates with children of his own age once he’s a bit more stable. He’s had some bad experiences with bullying, and I’m concerned that exposing him to other children at this point would only make things worse.”

John nodded, and noted the advice in the file he was making for Harry on his phone. “Anything else?”

She shrugged. “You’re already providing him with both food and a comfortable and safe place to sleep. He’ll come around, I think. I wouldn’t recommend pushing him when it comes to spending time with you. Let him move at his own pace. He already thinks you hung the moon, so give him time to let you know that.”

John fought the urge to bury his head in his hands. “Anything a little more definite for me?” he asked, not liking the plaintive tone in his own voice.

She laughed quietly. “Mr. Marcone, psychology isn’t like a mathematical formula. There aren’t set ways to get to an answer, and sometimes we don’t even know what the answer is that we’re looking for. This will take time. Do I think that Harry is going to be fine? Eventually, with the right care, absolutely. Am I willing to commit to a method of treatment after only spending an hour with him? No. Of course not.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’d like to see him again,” John hazarded.

“That sounds about right, yes,” Dr. Pierce confirmed with a sharp nod.

“Next week?” John guessed. “Same time?”

“Try three days from now, same time, if it works with your schedule. I think twice a week is a good idea until we’re certain that he’s doing well enough.”

John made a note of that as well, entering it into his schedule. He had to clear three meetings to make time for it, but it was worth it. Anything would be worth it if it helped the child. The police commissioner could just wait until their normal meeting time next week, or they would reschedule for another day.

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Pierce,” he said calmly. He leaned over and shook her hand, then left her office.

He found Harry sitting in the waiting room with Nathan, playing with one of the bead mazes. Nathan, occasionally, would be moved to shift one of the beads himself, and John had to fight down a burst of laughter at the sight.

“You ready, Harry?” he asked.

Harry abandoned the toy immediately and stood. “Ready,” he affirmed quietly.

John and Harry left the office, then, with Nathan trailing faithfully behind them.

ooOOooOOoo

With public school entirely out of the equation, both for the reasons that Dr. Pierce mentioned as well as the fact that John would never send his ward to school without a personal bodyguard, he was left with only two options.

The first, that of private school, was out of the question at the moment for the simple fact that Harry was terrified of other children. Finding that out had been an adventure in and of itself, and hadn’t gone well. John had made arrangements with several of the families in his employ to have a small gathering that Harry would attend. Three families with one child each had been invited. Harry had retreated to the smallest place he could find, which had been under the couch, and hadn’t come out until the other children had left. So yeah, private school was out.

Which left homeschooling. That wasn’t technically a problem, but John just didn’t trust his own level of knowledge enough to be Harry’s teacher. Not to mention, he didn’t exactly have the time for it. That meant that he needed to concentrate on finding somebody he trusted to handle the matter, and that wasn’t exactly going well at the moment. It seemed like everybody recommended to him as a tutor had something in their background that made him rather leery of trusting his ward with them.

There was also the small chance he was being paranoid, but really, that was negligible.

What that meant was, until John could find either a nanny or a tutor he trusted, Harry spent his days with John at his offices. The boy was amazingly quiet, and was easily amused as well. While John had meetings and filled out paperwork, Harry sat at his own smaller desk and colored, or read, or quietly watched television with the headphones in on the laptop John had procured for him. And if, every so often, the little one let out a childish giggle that broke up the silence, John was okay with that.

All in all, while the arrangement was far from ideal it was working quite well. Or rather, John should say, it had been working quite well. Until today.

This shouldn’t have happened, and he had no idea how it had. The three men should have been stopped long before they could reach his office, and yet here they were, semi-automatic weapons in hand, threatening both John and Harry. John swore that after this was over he was going to fire his entire security team. Except for Nathan, who at least had the sense to stop the idiots from trying to breach the room while the men had their guns on Harry.

“You must be incredibly stupid if you think that threatening my child is going to do you any good,” John said flatly. He was fighting not to show just how panicked he really was. Harry’s position was... alarmingly precarious, to say the least.

“You’ll do what we say or we’ll blow a hole in this pretty little things’ head,” one of the masked men snarled.

John opened his mouth to respond, hopefully with something that would disarm the situation a bit, then froze.

Harry disappeared with a little pop only to reappear by John’s side, where he immediately flung his arms around John’s waist and began to wail loudly, inconsolably. At the same time, the semi-automatics the men were holding disappeared like they’d never existed in the first place. Nathan entered the office immediately and the men were smart enough to surrender before they could be executed.

Once they’d been removed from the office for questioning and Harry’s sobs had turned into quiet sniffles, John settled the child on top of his desk and knelt to stare into his watery green eyes. “Harry, do you know how he did that?” he asked gently. Magic was something he still didn’t understand much of, having only been exposed to its existence a few months ago, but he recognized it when he saw it.

Harry shook his head frantically. “Not a freak!” he cried desperately, lips trembling with tears once more.

“No, you’re not,” John said patiently. “I think maybe you might have just done some magic, though.”

“No!” Harry shouted. “There’s no such thing as magic, and I’m not a freak!”

John frowned. Those words sounded suspiciously like words that might have come from his very boring, very mundane, very vanilla cousin. “Harry, is that something that Uncle Vernon taught you?” he asked, trying to be both stern and gentle.

Harry sniffled a bit. “Yes, sir,” he whispered, and looked down.

“And what did we say about things that Vernon taught you?” John asked, tilting Harry’s chin up until the child had no choice but to look him in the eye.

He got the spark of defiance he was hoping for. “Uncle Vernon was a liar!” Harry shouted triumphantly.

“That’s right, Harry,” John said, with a relieved smile. Harry was learning that one very quickly, and things that Vernon had said were making less frequent appearances daily. “So, let me tell you now, magic is real. I’ve seen it done before. And if you think that you can be brave with Mr. Hendricks for a while, I’m going to go and speak with the only wizard I know, who might be able to teach you a little bit about it.”

“Okay, Uncle John,” Harry said sweetly, all the fight gone from him. He was taken from the room by one of Nathan’s men.

John staggered as though he’d been shot in the stomach. Uncle John. Oh, God, was he really? Dr. Pierce had assured him that he was doing everything right with the little one, that he was recovering quite nicely from his ordeal, but he hadn’t realized... He hadn’t realized just how much Harry was coming to adore him.

Uncle John, huh? He could get used to that, actually.

“I don’t like the idea of you going out there when we don’t know who sent them,” Nathan said quietly, a frown on his face. “I especially don’t like the idea of you going out there without a guard on you.”

John snorted dismissively. “It’ll be fine. Whoever it was will expect me to hide in my offices for a few days while the answers are beaten out of their men. They won’t expect me to be on the streets by myself going to visit a wizard.”

Nathan let out a displeased sigh, but nodded slowly. “I’ll take good care of the kid, boss,” he said.

“I know you will,” John answered, though it hardly needed to be said. “I’ll be back shortly.”


	3. Chapter Two

Things had been quiet lately.

Which was great, really, because it meant that nothing was rotten in the state of Denmark. So to speak. But it was bad, because Harry was still a human, and still needed to pay his rent, and still really needed food. With things being quiet, Harry was finding most of the above to be a little more difficult than normal. He was down to about half a pack of ramen in his cupboard, and no gas to cook it. And that was, of course, assuming that he even had an apartment when he left his office.

He was just getting ready to see if Murphy needed a hand with something, anything, when the door to his shop opened. And, because the day just couldn’t get any better, in walked his least favorite mobster.

“Oh, what a coincidence. I was just getting ready to call the police,” Harry snarked, even as he set his phone back onto the cradle.

Marcone’s eyebrows raised. “By all means, don’t let me stop you from pressing business,” he said, even as he settled across from Harry in the chair reserved for clients.

“That was a hint. I meant for you to get out.” Harry gestured sharply at the door.

Marcone only smiled at him. “Actually, I find myself in need of your services, Mr. Dresden.”

Harry snorted. “I told you no once, didn’t I? I meant it. I’m not getting in bed with the mob, metaphorically speaking.”

“What about literally speaking?” Marcone asked, then shook his head quickly before Harry had a chance to respond. Which was probably a good thing, because mouthing off to Marcone would probably get him a pair of cement galoshes, and that just wasn’t his style. “Kidding, Mr. Dresden. You see, I find myself in need of a consultation with a wizard regarding my new ward.”

“I said... No, wait, new ward? What does your new ward have to do with me?” Harry eyed the mobster suspiciously, wondering just what it was that Marcone was up to. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be any good. Marcone was a shark: lethal and likely to strike when he saw blood. This was a ploy of some kind; it had to be. But for what purpose, Harry could only imagine.

“I believe he performed some magic today, and I was wondering if you knew of a way that I could either confirm or refute that. And if you can confirm it, I was wondering if you might know of a magical person seeking work that might be trustworthy enough that I could employ him as Harry’s tutor.” Marcone’s smirk, when he said this last bit, was vicious. And shark-like. See earlier comment.

“Are you really asking me to be a magical tutor to somebody who shares my first name? Because that won’t be at all confusing,” Harry muttered, avoiding answering the question. The request sounded like something he could probably do, maybe even like something he wanted to do, and that was a terrible idea. Harry didn’t make deals with sharks.

“Mr. Dresden, you are the only magical person I’ve been able to find that I would trust enough with the life of the child I’m raising as my own. You already know what I do for a living, and I trust you enough to know that you won’t involve a child in any disagreements you have with me.” Marcone frowned at him and added, “So if you would dispense with the sarcasm and give me a straight answer, that would be much appreciated.

Harry considered Marcone’s words and came to several conclusions, all in the space of a few moments. The first was that Marcone was right: He would have a hell of a time finding a trustworthy wizard who could look the other way when it came to his illegal dealings. Wizards that were willing to look the other way generally weren’t the sort you wanted to leave with your kid.

The second conclusion was slightly more relevant. Harry was tired. He was a good person, he was, but he was tired of always wondering where his next meal would come from and whether or not he’d have the money to pay rent. And working with the police was a wonderfully rewarding thing, but Murphy didn’t trust him anymore. It was a painful truth, but there it was.

She didn’t trust him, and she probably never would again. The fact was that he was hiding things from her, and he would never be able to tell her. They weren’t things that should get him arrested of course, but that hadn’t stopped her from trying. And maybe he didn’t trust her so much anymore, either.

“You know what? I’m hungry enough. Let’s do this. I’ll go meet the kid. You’ll feed me dinner. If he’s magical, we’ll draw up a contract. It isn’t like anything else was coming my way right now anyway. And it won’t be like I’ll be your own wizard for hire, or anything.” Harry narrowed his eyes and added, “I’ll just be tutoring.” He wanted to be absolutely certain that Marcone didn’t take this as permission to use him for anything else.

Marcone’s smirk turned into a more genuine smile. “That, Mr. Dresden, sounds like an excellent plan.”

Harry followed Marcone from his office, and as he did he couldn’t help feeling like he’d just made a deal with the devil. Or a shark. And sharks really didn’t seem like the type to make deals, did they? Or to honor their arrangements.

So long as Harry wasn’t eaten, he’d be okay. He’d always managed before to land on his feet; he doubted one mobster could change that.

Unless Marcone ate his feet...

ooOOooOOoo

Okay.

So Harry wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d gone into this meeting with quite a few expectations. Perhaps he would find the kid in a mini suit and tie, with an entirely unamused expression on his face. Or maybe he would find a little boy so frightened of Marcone and the people he worked with that Harry would have to involve the police just to try and get the kid to a safe harbor. There was even the possibility that the kid would be entirely normal and Harry was just being paranoid.

What hadn’t been an option was that Harry would recognize the child playing nonchalantly on the floor with Cujo.

Huh.

So, okay. Funny thing about practitioners: there’s a ton of different kinds. Harry himself belonged to the White Council, and while they followed a very strict set of laws based upon secrecy and other things that wizards weren’t meant to do, they at least acknowledged the necessity of interacting with non-magical beings.. This little one belonged to a very isolationist society that didn’t much mingle with the Muggles that surrounded them. There were arguments both for and against that type of society, though Harry himself tended to side with the minglers.

This one, sitting on the floor playing with his little toy truck, was arguably the most famous of that insular wand-waving sect. Rumor had it that he’d taken out some burgeoning Dark Lord while he was still just a baby, and that was what had given him the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. If that was the case, and really, how many kids had lightning bolt scars anyway, then how had Marcone gotten ahold of him?

He supposed it didn’t really matter at this point, and it was always something he could ask Marcone later. Hells bells, he didn’t even really need to do the evaluation, did he? Of course Harry Potter was magical. That wasn’t even in question, was it?

But still, just to make sure... Harry entered the office and offered his nicest smile to the boy who had looked up the moment the door opened. Knowing that he was likely a very intimidating figure to such a tiny child, he said in his gentlest voice, “Hi there.”

“This is Mr. Dresden,” Marcone said after entering the office behind him, “and he might be your tutor. But I’ll need you to be honest with him, and talk about what happened earlier today.”

Harry Potter set his toy down without taking his eyes from Harry Dresden. “I made the guns go away,” he said quietly, “because they were scary. And I don’t like being scared.”

Harry closed his eyes. That wasn’t possible. Magic didn’t work like that. At least, no magic that he knew. There was a very good chance that he was in over his head here. Then he opened his eyes and offered the kid a smile. “That’s very impressive magic for someone of your advanced years,” he said teasingly. “And were you very tired after you did that?”

The little boy shook his head. “I was upset. And I wanted to be with Uncle John. So I wished I was, and then I was!”

Still not technically possible. And yet... Maybe Harry should stop focusing on what he thought was possible and figure out just how powerful this little one was. “And you weren’t even a little bit tired after you did all of that? Because that sounds like an awful lot of work to me!” Harry said, and when the kid shook his head, his mind was just a little bit blown. Magic didn’t work like that, especially not when the practitioner in question was a six year old. There was a reason that magic didn’t typically manifest until a practitioner was at least in their double digits. But then, for all Harry knew, the isolationists overseas did things entirely differently. Even so, the kind of power that should take...

Harry shook his head again, this time more violently. “Not tired,” he insisted. “Was easy.”

“Okay,” Harry answered, giving up on that line of questioning. If the child had been tired as a result, he most likely still would have been sleeping anyway. Magic, at such a young age, was either exhausting or it wasn’t. Harry himself had never had any troubles with exhaustion, but then, he’d always been more of a heavy hitter than a delicate spellcrafter.

A new line of questioning occurred to him, and Harry asked the child, “Can you repeat what you did to the guns with something else?” If he was just using his powers accidentally, that would be one thing, but if he could deliberately recreate what he’d done... Harry wasn’t even sure he’d be good enough to train a wizard who could do that so young. Yeah, sure, he was a powerhouse and he had Bob to lend him a hand, but a wizard like that would dance circles around him.

The kid stared up at him with confused green eyes that went right through to Harry’s heart. “I don’t think so,” he said finally, and looked down at his truck. And then he seemed to perk up and chirped, “But I can do something else!”

“What can you do?” Harry fought down a smile. Whatever it was, the kid was obviously impressed with himself. This was probably going to be adorable.

The little boy closed his eyes, and frowned in concentration. And then he hissed.

It wasn’t adorable, that was for sure. It was a chilling sound that sent shivers down Harry’s spine. “Okay, okay, okay, stop,” Harry said quickly.

Marcone was obviously with him, and scooped Harry up off the floor swiftly. “Enough,” he said quietly, and the little boy stopped immediately to fling his arms around the mobster’s neck.

“Sometimes snakes talk back to me,” Harry chirped, and looked entirely too pleased with himself.

The older wizard nodded. “Okay then,” he said after taking a few minutes to recover himself. “Have you always been able to do that?” Parseltongue. He’d never thought he’d hear it himself; the skill was supposed to be extinct.

“My first friend was a snake in my Aunt’s garden,” Harry said, and then hid his face in Marcone’s neck. “She killed her when she found her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Marcone said, and to Harry’s surprise he actually sounded like he meant it. Huh. Maybe he wasn’t such a bastard after all. “Hendricks, why don’t you take Harry back to the house? I think he’s ready for his nap.”

“I don’t need a nap! I’m not tired!” Harry protested. “I wanna stay with you and Mr. Dresden!”

Marcone sighed and placed the child in Hendricks’ waiting arms. “I know you do, Harry,” he said patiently, “but Mr. Dresden and I need to speak now, adults only. Can you let us do that?”

The child frowned, but finally nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, but didn’t sound happy about it. Hendricks, thankfully, took him away before that frown could turn into an all out tantrum. Which was great, because Harry hated it when kids cried. It made him feel like scum, and he wasn’t fond of that feeling.

ooOOooOOoo

John didn’t particularly care for the noise that had come from Harry’s mouth when Dresden had asked him if he could do anything else. It had made him feel just a little nauseous, and a lot uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why. He did know that he didn’t want to hear that again, although he was almost certain he would.

Once Harry had left the room, he asked Dresden, “What the hell was that?”

“Parseltongue, I think,” Dresden answered, “It’s the language of the snakes. It’s... a pretty rare gift, and not really... it’s not a good thing to have. It’s considered a sign of evil by the more suspicious practitioners.”

John, inexplicably, felt a little bit of dread at Dresden’s statement. “You don’t think that, do you?” He didn’t know enough about one type of magic or another, not yet, but he knew that a little boy couldn’t possibly deserve to be considered evil. If Dresden did think that, he wasn’t sure that he could employ the man as Harry’s tutor.

Dresden shook his head. “I think it’s damn creepy, and it isn’t necessarily something I like to hear. I also think that it’s just a language, and I don’t see how that can be evil.”

John relaxed a bit. “That’s a relief to hear. I couldn’t have hired you if you were secretly thinking that little Harry was just waiting to grow into a soul-sucking monster.”

“With you as his primary role model, what else am I supposed to think?” Dresden cracked. “And I never said I would come to work with you. There’s a lot to discuss before we can make that decision, starting with how you have Harry Potter as your ward.”

John froze. “I wasn’t aware that divination was one of your gifts,” he said hesitantly, and wondered how Dresden had recognized his ward.

“It isn’t. We’ve got a lot to talk about over this dinner you’re buying me,” Dresden said, and not for the first time, John wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into.


	4. Chapter Three

John’s first impulse had been to call in a favor and get the two of them seats at one of the nicest restaurants in Chicago. The owner owed him quite a lot for taking care of a... problem she’d had, and he had yet to cash in on that.

On second thought, he considered who he was trying to strike a deal with and nixed that idea. Dresden wasn’t one who would be easily impressed by fancy meals and fast cars. He’d already proven as much when he’d turned John down the first time. No, if he wanted Dresden to be comfortable enough to come and work for him, then he’d have to try something a little outside of his own realm of expertise. That thought in mind, he instead had his driver take them to McAnally’s. Dresden’s look of relief mixed with a hint of genuine delight upon their arrival made John confident that he’d made the right decision.

Although McAnally’s wasn’t the type of place John would ordinarily frequent, it was more than worth it to see Dresden at his ease. Dresden was apparently enough of a regular to know exactly what he wanted to eat, and he clearly enjoyed the food there judging by the way he fell upon it the moment his steak dinner arrived. Either that or, going by the lean, almost gaunt appearance of the man, he hadn’t eaten in awhile.

In all honesty, John was hoping for the latter rather than the former. If the former, it was simply a natural state for Dresden. If the latter, it meant that he was more likely to be in a position where he was required to accept John’s offer. Not that Dresden had a habit of doing things he was required to do, of course. But if he was having trouble finding honest work, perhaps that would make him more amenable to taking some less than honest work.

If a position tutoring could be considered less than honest, of course.

“Did you want another steak?” John asked, unable to stop himself from the subtle taunt as he sipped at his ale. It was decent, though not generally a beverage he preferred. The steak was, however, excellent. He could see why Dresden appreciated the place.

Dresden’s eyes narrowed, likely catching the lightly mocking tone to John’s voice, and then he shrugged. “You’re footing the bill, aren’t you? Then sure, why not?”

If it was a test, it wasn’t one that bothered John as he waved the barman over once more and ordered a second steak for Dresden. It wasn’t like this meal would bankrupt him, after all. It wasn’t even as though it would dent his budget for the day. And if it got Dresden working for him, even in some small capacity...

“So,” John began once Dresden had received his second steak and made quite a dent in that one as well, “did you want to start off by telling me how it was that you knew my ward’s name?” It was either begin the conversation or ask him when the last time was that he ate, and John was pretty sure that one of those two topics of conversation wouldn’t go so well.

Dresden set his knife and fork down with a small sigh and finished chewing his food. He took a gulp from his ale and settled the bottle on the table before looking up at John. “Your... ward. Harry Potter. Right. He’s... well, he’s something of a celebrity in the magical world.”

John couldn’t keep himself from scowling at the somewhat vague statement. His ward was in a very fragile state of mind; he didn’t want him to have to deal with any sort of fame while trying to recover from his Uncle’s cruel treatment. “Would you care to elaborate on that?” he asked, and only realized after he’d spoken that he’d done so through gritted teeth.

“He saved the world,” Dresden answered, and offered John an insufferable smirk. He was being vague on purpose, and it was maddening.

“Again, I might need a bit of elaboration here.” John’s goodwill dropped by quite a lot, and Dresden clearly had no clue just how thin a thread he was dangling on right now. If he didn’t start elaborating on his answers, John might just have to rethink this whole tutoring idea. He couldn’t trust somebody who would deliberately withhold information which could be crucial to his ward’s wellbeing.

“Okay, so, a few years ago. Four of them, in fact, plus a few months or so, there was this wizard that was going around terrorizing the...” Dresden paused here and shook his head. “Actually, no. Let’s start with the magical community itself. There are two: The one that I belong to, the one that’s hidebound and traditional but at least open to new things, and then there’s the the other one. You have to be born into that community, really, or pass some test I guess to enter it. They’re an... hmm, I guess you could say that they’re isolationists, and they don’t act within the modern world all that much. They stick to themselves.”

“So my Harry was born into this world?” John asked, trying to rush this along a bit. He had the feeling that his explanation could take all night, and honestly, he really just wanted to get back home and make sure that Harry was okay. They’d had a very rough day, after all. He could learn more about this society once he had Dresden working for him, and if he didn’t manage to secure him, he would find someone else.

“Yes, yes he was. There was some rumor about a prophecy that applied to him, and this mad wizard named... Maldywart? I don’t know the name. Anyway, he came after the little Potter baby. In a nutshell, Harry survived the confrontation when nobody else did, and now they call him the Boy Who Lived. And then he was taken away to live with relatives. Or something like that, I don’t know.” Dresden shrugged, then, and added rather sheepishly, “I’ve never really followed the movements of my own society, much less theirs.”

“That’s more than enough information to begin with, I suppose,” John said with a small sigh. “Although do you know if the mad wizard survived the confrontation?”

Dresden swallowed the last bite of his second steak and shrugged. “Nobody knows, but then, nobody’s seen him since. At least, that was the last I’d heard. Of course, last I’d heard he’d gone to stay with some mundane relatives, and since you didn’t know about this, it couldn’t have been you. So how did you come to have him?”

“Apparently he was placed with my dear cousin Vernon, and his wife Petunia. I have no idea who would consider those two to be fit guardians for a child, especially a magical one, but I would dearly love to have words with the idiot who did.” If he ever did find out who was responsible for placing Harry, he was going to do more than have words. The culprit would be lucky to survive the meeting.

“Ahh, that might be difficult. It should have been his parents’ will that placed him, and that would have been handled by their executor, which I think might have been a very prominent leader in their world. Albus... Dumbdoor? I don’t know.” Dresden shrugged, not seeming terribly bothered by the fact that he didn’t know the man in question’s name.

“I don’t care if he was placed there by a god, they should have known better,” John snarled. “They were keeping the child in a cupboard, Dresden. A cupboard! And he’s still so thin, while both my cousin and his own son are so ridiculously overweight it’s unhealthy! I know they were starving him, and I... I couldn’t leave a child there to suffer.” John shook his head at the memory of the way that Harry had devoured his first meal with John, much like Dresden had just inhaled his steak. Actually, the two weren’t different at all in that sense.

He had to push that thought away as it inspired an unwelcome amount of sympathy for Dresden. He couldn’t afford that right now, not when he was potentially about to enter into negotiations with the man.

Dresden was staring at him like he’d never seen him before. “That’s... that’s actually pretty decent of you,” he said wonderingly. “I’d heard that you had a thing about involving kids in crime, but I didn’t actually believe it until now.”

“Children shouldn’t ever suffer for an adult’s mistake,” John said flatly. “Now, since it’s clear that I have no chance at handling this on my own, are you willing to come on as his tutor, or can you point me to someone else you might recommend?”

Dresden frowned and studied his now-clean plate, and John waited for his response. He thought he might even be disappointed if Dresden was unwilling to help him at this point, and wondered when he’d actually started to like the man. It probably had something to do with that niggling bit of sympathy he couldn’t quite shake.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry studied Marcone over the table. The mobster’s face was relatively blank, considering the level of fury and passion he’d shown when railing over his ward’s placement. It must have been painful for him to admit to having little ability to handle his ward’s magic and the world that would undoubtedly eventually come looking for him.

There was no way the wizarding community as a whole would ever let Harry Potter walk away after what he’d done.

So this was it. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and he only really had two options from here. Neither were ideal, but that was life, wasn’t it? He never seemed to get the easy choices. The simple ones. The ones that involved choosing between a beautiful woman and a snapping alligator. Nope. He never had those choices. Or if he did, it generally involved the beautiful woman being an evil Fae and the alligator being a dinosaur or something ridiculous like that.

But he wasn’t dealing with those sorts of options now, was he? He was here, with Marcone, and this cliff in front of him wasn’t going away. So he could back away from the cliff. He could go back to sitting in his office waiting for Murphy to call him with a case, hoping that somebody else’s day was bad enough that they needed him before he starved or was evicted. Hoping that when Murphy did call he was able to give her enough information that she wouldn’t suspect him of committing the crime.

Or he could jump. He could agree to work with Marcone. That would put an end to his police work, because Murphy couldn’t use someone who was in bed with the mob, figuratively speaking. It would look too bad. It would probably end his business, too, not that it had ever really picked up that much. But it would also mean food on the table and a regular income in his pocket, which was a luxury he’d never had.

He should go with the first option. It was the option that the better man would take. But morals didn’t pay the bills, and the better man hadn’t had a full stomach in weeks. Was there really something so wrong with tutoring Marcone’s ward?

“I won’t be your personal hit-wizard. For one thing, that’s illegal,” Harry finally said.

Marcone smiled, and it looked oddly like a shark. “I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to train my s- my ward.”

“Then...” Harry took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and hoped that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life. “Then yes. I’ll tutor your ward.”

“Excellent,” Marcone said, sounding far too satisfied for Harry’s taste. He looked like the lion who’d gotten the antelope. Harry wasn’t a fucking antelope. “Did you want help moving in, then?”

Harry groaned, wanted to slap himself in the forehead. “I’m not moving in with you, Marcone,” he hissed. He was already regretting his decision.

“So you wanted to rely on that death trap you call a car to bring you out to my home every morning at a ridiculously early hour?” Marcone asked politely. “Of course, I suppose if you’re dead set against moving in I can always provide you with a driver, or a newer car. Whichever you would prefer.”

Harry gave up and let his forehead bang gently against the solid table. “I’m paying rent,” he said flatly, “and you’re going to build me a lab exactly to my specifications.”

“You won’t pay rent, and I’d be happy to.”

Yeah. He’d made a deal with the devil. But at least the devil seemed intent on treating him well, which was more than Harry could say with the last person he’d made a deal with.

At least Marcone couldn’t turn him into a dog...


	5. Chapter Four

When John arrived back at his home he was ambushed almost immediately by a sobbing Harry. Considering that it was easily an hour past his bedtime, John was more than a little unamused by this fact. Nevertheless, he immediately knelt and scooped Harry up into his arms and murmured soothingly to him as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“I couldn’t get him to sleep, boss,” Nathan offered with an apologetic shrug. “I read to him, I gave him warm milk, I even offered to stay with him until you got home, but he wouldn’t calm down no matter what I did.” He hesitated, then added, “He kept asking me if you were going to send him away now.”

John fought down a vicious curse and instead nodded at Nathan. “I’ll handle it,” he said quietly, and carried little Harry up to his room. He tried to set him down on the bed, but Harry wouldn’t let go of him long enough for him to do it. Instead he settled himself in the chair by the bed with Harry in his lap. “What’s all this, then?” he asked as gently as he could.

“Please don’t send me away!” Harry sobbed, clutching at John’s shirt. “I won’t do it again, please, don’t make me leave!”

“Nobody’s going to make you leave,” John said immediately. He wasn’t sure where Harry had gotten the idea that he would be sent away, because it wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever. He’d grown too attached to the child in the short time he’d had him, and he would never send his own child away. Never.

While he continued to murmur reassurances to the child, Harry slowly began to settle on his lap. Finally, John couldn’t have said how long later, Harry was no longer crying and his hold had loosened. “You promise?” he finally asked, his tiny voice hoarse with tears.

“I swear,” John said gently. He pushed Harry away slightly and wiped off his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “You want to tell me where you got the idea that I would send you away?”

Harry’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and he still looked devastated. “You… that man. He’s gonna take me away, because you don’t want a freak like me.”

“Actually, Mr. Dresden is going to come and stay with us, and teach you more about being a wizard,” John corrected. “I don’t think you’re a freak at all; I think you have a valuable gift, and Mr. Dresden is going to show you how to use it safely.”

Harry stared up at him, his green eyes still a bit watery, and then he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered, and leaned back in for a hug.

John tucked his head under his chin and said, “Do you think that next time you could talk to me before working yourself up like this? I’d like a chance to explain things to you before you work yourself into these hysterics.”

Harry giggled and said, “I can try,” before letting out a mighty yawn.

Considering how far past his bedtime it was, and how much he’d been crying, John was unsurprised. He stood up and settled Harry on the ground, despite the grip the child had on him. “Do you think we can get you ready for bed now?”

“I’m not sleepy,” Harry protested around another yawn. “I wanna stay with you.”

John chuckled. “What if I stay with you until you fall asleep?” he offered. “I have some work to do tonight, so I can’t spend the night here, but I can do that.”

“I guess,” Harry said, and leaned against him.

John took him into the bathroom and settled him on the toilet seat. He washed Harry’s face gently and the child’s eyes fluttered closed about halfway through. By the time John finished cleaning him up, Harry was fast asleep. John settled him into bed and turned out the lights and left his door slightly cracked.

He then went to his office. He had a lot of work to do to get the house ready for Dresden, starting with figuring out what exactly a wizard needed in his lab. Perhaps he should have asked him that before leaving him for the night…

ooOOooOOoo

Two days after he’d sold his soul to the devil, Harry was glowering at his office phone. It was all the phone’s fault, of course. Everything could be blamed on the phone. It still hadn’t rung once, which at least meant that Harry had probably made the right decision. He couldn’t help people if he starved to death, after all.

And really, his decision wasn’t as bad as all that. He would still be able to help people if he chose, and what could be more rewarding than shaping a bright young mind? McCoy had certainly seemed to find it rewarding, even when Harry had done his best to drive the man up the wall. This was a good decision. This was the only decision he could have made.

But now came the hard part. He had to call Murphy. She needed to know. His office was all packed up; he was ready to vacate the place. It wouldn’t be fair to her to just not tell her and let her find out some other way. She’d done so much for him, even if she’d never really trusted him. She deserved to know that he’d… that he’d sold his soul to the devil.

Okay, so that thought had been a bit more melodramatic than he’d intended. He rolled his eyes at himself, then picked up the phone and dialled. Putting it off wasn’t going to do anybody any good.

She answered on the third ring. “Murphy,” she said, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said, and had to clear his throat because yes, he was a little bit nervous.

“What’s up, Harry?” she asked, though there was the slightest edge of impatience to her voice.

“Did I interrupt something?” Harry asked, and hoped that he didn’t sound as eager as he was. “I could always call back later,” he added. Nope. That didn’t sound desperate at all.

“It’s… nothing major. Just a few minor incidents, nothing for you to worry about. What’s up?” She sounded a bit calmer now, a bit less out of breath.

A bit less busy, which meant that Harry was out of excuses. “So, I just wanted to call you and let you know that I got a new job, and I’ll be leaving the office behind. And my apartment, actually. Both. I’ll be living on site.”

Murphy took in a sharp breath of air which she let out in a soft whistle of appreciation. “Sounds like you landed a big job,” she said. “What did you find? Will you still be able to consult with us?”

“You might not want me to,” Harry said, because he was pretty sure she wouldn’t. He hesitated, and then blurted out, “I’ll be working as a tutor for Marcone’s ward.”

There was a moment of utter silence, followed by the ring of the dial tone in his ear. She’d hung up on him. Harry hung up the phone and banged his head gently on his desk. He’d known she wasn’t going to like this; he’d known it. But he’d thought she would at least give him a chance to plead his case.

The phone rang and Harry grabbed it immediately, hoping it was Murphy calling back. Nope. “Mr. Dresden,” Marcone said quietly, and Harry fought the urge to hang up. Hanging up on his employer was a terrible idea, especially after he maybe possibly just burned his bridges with the police.

“Mr. Marcone,” he instead returned as evenly as he could.

“I’m sending a car out to you. I’d like you to come and see what we’ve started with the lab, and also for you to spend a bit more time with Harry so that he’s well-adjusted to you when you come to stay with us permanently.”

Harry considered his response as he looked around his office. Everything was packed away, ready and waiting to be moved or thrown out, depending. It was sort of depressing, actually. And Murphy was pretty upset with him, so he shouldn’t call her back right away. He should give her some time to cool down, instead. That made sense. He certainly wasn’t being a coward, he was just being logical, that was all.

“Sounds great,” he said finally. “When should I be ready?”

“The car will arrive in a half an hour. You’ll see the progress on the lab, we’ll go over what you’re looking for in your workspaces, and then you’ll have lunch with us.”

“Well, if you’ve got it all planned out already, who am I to argue?” he asked, a bit facetiously. “I’ll be ready in a half hour.”

“I’ll see you soon, Dresden,” Marcone said, and once again Harry was listening to the dial tone. At least this time it wasn’t because somebody was mad at him...

ooOOooOOoo

The lab, what little of it was ready, looked like it was going to be amazing. Harry sort of couldn’t wait to see the finished product, especially after sitting down with Marcone and going over everything that he would need in both the lab that was being built and the workspace where he would train Harry and practice some of his more dangerous spells. He really couldn’t help but be a little bit excited.

Lunch, on the other hand, was… interesting.

Little Harry seemed determined to ignore him, staring fixedly at his plate the entire time. Now, Harry knew that the kid was probably a little freaked out by this whole magic thing, but he’d always thought of himself as being pretty good with kids. Apparently that wasn’t the case, at least, not when the kid in question was Marcone’s ward.

He and Marcone managed to keep up a civil conversation, and it was only once the meal was over that Harry managed to catch the little one’s attention with a small display of magic. It wasn’t his fault, honestly; Marcone should know better than to answer a cell phone around Harry.

The phone sparked and died a miserable, swift death, and Marcone glowered at Harry. “Can you tell me why my Harry doesn’t do anything to my technology, but you’re a walking death sentence for it?” he asked as he closed his cell phone like it hadn’t just nearly caught fire.

Harry shrugged. “Different types of magic, I guess,” he said cheerfully. At least the kid was looking at him, now, rather than staring at his empty plate. That was progress, right?

“Could you teach me to break Uncle John’s phones?” the kid asked, then let out a tiny squeak and jerked his eyes back down to his plate. “Not that I’d want to do that because that would be mean and I’m not mean. I was just wondering.”

Harry grinned. “Kid, I can teach you to break so many things,” he said cheerfully. “We’ll start with easy things like phones and go from there.”

“Dresden.” Marcone was glowering at him, now.

Harry offered him a sunny smile. “Marcone?”

“You will not spend all of your time teaching my child how to cause mayhem and mischief on your level,” he said with a dark glower. “You will teach him useful things.”

“Mischief and mayhem are very useful,” Harry protested. “But really I just want to start with something he’s interested in. And that’s as good a spot as any, I suppose. I’ve never trained anyone before, and I can’t remember how my own basic lessons started.” And even if he could, he wasn’t sure that he would trust any of DuMorne’s techniques.

Marcone let out a small groan and muttered, “Somehow I should have expected this to be a terrible idea.” But there was a slight smile on his face as he said it, and Harry had to look away.

Marcone was kind of cute when he smiled, and Harry just didn’t need to be thinking about that. He had enough on his plate with a new apprentice and the move he still had to finish getting ready for. He didn’t have time for an entirely inappropriate crush on his mobster boss. Period.

ooOOooOOoo

The rest of the week flew by and, before he knew it, he and his things were outside of Marcone’s mansion just on the outskirts of town. He knew that his lab and work area were finished, but he hadn’t seen them since he’d discussed what he needed with Marcone. He knew that little Harry was actually getting excited, because they’d spoken on the phone a few times since Harry’d had lunch with them. The kid was warming up to him, and Harry was almost starting to feel like he could do this.

He also knew that Murphy was pissed with him. She probably wouldn’t ever speak to him again, actually, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. When he’d tried to call her back a day after she’d hung up on him, she’d informed him that she couldn’t be seen associating with a member of the mafia. That was when he’d hung up on her. He didn’t blame her, though, not really. She was right. She couldn’t be seen associating with somebody who was associated with Marcone.

He’d known what it would look like, of course. He’d called it a week ago when he’d decided to take this position. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much when she’d refused to even listen to him. But whatever. He was on his own again, for the most part, although Michael was certainly still talking to him. So on his own except for Michael. And a mob boss, and a talking skull, and a kid. Yeah, this was sounding like the worst party of adventurers ever. They’d never get anywhere in a proper RPG.

“Mr. Dresden!” the kid shrieked, and darted out of the massive house to greet him. “We’re gonna learn about breaking things, right?” he asked eagerly.

“Just as soon as I’ve set up the lab,” Harry promised. “C’mon, short stuff, you wanna help me out with that?”

“Can I?” he asked eagerly, and lifted his arms to be picked up, which Harry did after a moment of surprise. “I’ll be really careful and I won’t break anything until you tell me how to do it! Aunt Petunia used to make me clean up the fragile things in the house, and I only broke something once and that was an accident because Dudley knocked into me. And then I got locked in the cupboard again... but you wouldn’t do that to me, and there’s no Dudley to knock into me!”

Harry counted backwards from ten. That anybody could hurt a child, any child, was just... it was unconscionable. That the child in question was Harry Potter, who had apparently saved the world once upon a time, was unthinkable. When he felt like he was calm enough, he said, “No, there isn’t any Dudley here, and even if you did break something, it isn’t irreplaceable. Except for Bob, that is, but he’s not easily broken.”

“Who’s Bob? Will I get to meet him?” Harry asked, green eyes bright and eager.

“Not until you’re older, I think,” Harry answered quickly. Empty night, the thought of exposing the adorable little one to Bob’s… unique personality was just not a good one. Not that he thought that Bob would be inappropriate or anything... okay. Fine. He was pretty sure that Bob would be inappropriate.

“Why?” Harry asked.

They were so not doing this. “Why don’t we go take a look at the lab?” Harry offered quickly in a somewhat desperate bid to distract Harry. Why no, he wasn’t above using distraction to back away from a potentially disastrous subject. He was a wizard, after all, and distraction was one of his best tools.

“Okay!” Harry chirped, just like that.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and hoped that it would always be that easy to keep the little one well behaved. Somehow he doubted that would be the case.


	6. Chapter Five

Within his first two weeks living with Marcone, Harry was proud to say that he had destroyed almost half of Marcone’s technology three times over. Which really meant that he’d destroyed more technology than Marcone had to begin with, but really, who was keeping count?

It had been a quick, easy way to get little Harry to like him. The little snot was, after all, a kid, and if there was one thing most kids had in common it was that they liked to see things be destroyed in ever more creative ways. And, okay, there was the smallest chance that Harry found the little one to be absolutely adorable when he was giggling over a pathetically sparking piece of technology.

And Marcone was maybe intriguing in an entirely different way when he undoubtedly found out about said piece of technology and snarled over it, like some demented dragon snarling over pilfered treasure.

Umm. No. Striking that thought from his mind, Harry focused on the television that had somehow, someway made its way down into his lab. He certainly didn’t know how it made its way to them, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. It wasn’t like he’d redirected the delivery guys or anything...

“So, close your eyes,” Harry murmured in his calmest, most soothing voice.

Little Harry’s eyes slipped closed and he took a deep breath.

“Do you see it? That glowing warmth inside you?” He closed his own eyes and focused on his own magic. It wasn’t a bad exercise that he was going through with the little one, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt him to work on his basics a little more often. Fine tune his own control, as the case may be. Not that he had to work on his control.

“I see it,” the little one breathed. His excitement was contagious and Harry fought down a grin.

“What color is it?” he asked. His own was a frosty blue, influenced possibly by his dear Godmother. Some people believed the colors meant things, but Harry had never figured out what. And, since those same people were generally people that pissed him off, he’d never really bothered to ask, either.

Harry let out a frustrated noise and said, “It’s different colors.”

Harry’s own eyes flew open. The kid was still sitting there with his eyes closed, face screwed up in concentration. That wasn’t… different colors wasn’t exactly normal. A person’s magic tended to settle on one. Maybe because Harry was too young? Or maybe it had something to do with his people. The fact was that Harry didn’t know that much about the wand-wavers of England, and their magic could work entirely differently.

But control was control, and Harry should still be able to learn other methods. “Take those colors, and try reaching out to the television. You might need a word to help it along, something you can use to force your magic out of you. There’s nothing wrong with needing the words; I’ve always-”

Harry cut off as the television exploded.

“Or you might not need the words,” Harry said weakly. “Not needing the words is good, too.” He was really glad, suddenly, that he’d had a protective circle built into the floor of the lab, otherwise there was no telling what that explosion would have done.

“I blew up the television!” Harry shrieked, and jumped up. He danced in place as he stared at the contained carnage.

“You definitely did,” Harry muttered. “Maybe tomorrow we can try something a little less violent? Maybe with words. Words are good.”

That the little one had done that without any sort of word, gesture, anything... just how powerful was Harry Potter?

ooOOooOOoo

When John came home that night and found the smoking remains of the television on the front porch, he tried to get angry, he really did.

But then he went in the house and saw his son…. saw little Harry looking so very proud, and Dresden looking just as worried as he did proud, and he forced himself not to yell. If Harry was getting control of his power he held, it was all to the good. Even if they were going to bankrupt him with all of the technology they were destroying.

“Can’t you blow up something a little older next time?” he hissed to Dresden over dinner.

“Older things are harder to destroy,” Dresden shot back, sounding far too smug. “But yeah. We could try something older, considering what he did to the television.”

John sighed. He really hoped they stopped destroying things, soon. It was going to look very strange, shortly, all of the televisions and cell phones and computers he’d been buying. The police must be going crazy trying to figure out what he was up to...

ooOOooOOoo

Dresden had been with them for a month now, and John was having trouble keeping his distance emotionally.

Especially now, during their weekly dinner meetings to go over Harry’s progress. The meals with just the two of them always seemed so much more intimate, whether John intended them to or not. And he knew it wasn’t just him, given the way that Harry would flush when their eyes met and then drop his gaze.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Harry began, staring determinedly at the table rather than meeting John’s eyes.

“I’ve never noticed you holding back on asking questions before,” John said teasingly.

“Did you really just let it slide, what his relatives did to Harry?” Harry’s gaze darted up as he asked the question.

John’s eyebrows rose. “Do you actually want to know the answer to that?” he asked, because up until now Harry had done everything in his power to avoid the more illegal activities that John typically engaged in.

“He’s such a sweet kid,” Harry muttered, staring determinedly once more down at the table top. “I can’t imagine anybody hurting him, and I can’t imagine you just letting it slide.”

John smiled, a vicious and somewhat gleeful thing. “Oh, I didn’t. His cousin is now living with Vernon’s sister Marge. As for the Dursleys, well, I regret to inform you that they were the unfortunate victims of a home invasion gone horribly wrong, if you must know.”

Harry snorted, and John was pleased to see that he didn’t look even the slightest bit disgusted by the news. “Just how far does your reach extend, anyway?”

John shrugged. “Chicago, and a bit of the surrounding area. I’m working on expanding, of course, but really I just had to call in a favor with an old friend to handle that. She has no love lost for child abusers either, so it didn’t even cost me much.”

Harry busied himself shredding a dinner roll to tiny pieces as he continued to stare down at his plate. John felt a very strong urge to reach out and still Harry’s hands, and masked it by asking briskly, “So, Harry’s progress for the week. How is he doing?”

The rest of the conversation was focused on Harry’s education, which was going quite well. Apparently the boy was something of a quick study, and Harry found him to be a bright and eager pupil. They’d finally stopped blowing things up in between last week’s dinner meeting and this one, and John was incredibly grateful for that. His wallet was almost crying with relief. Apparently they were moving on to runes and potions, both of which could be destructive but were more often not. Harry was quite content to discuss the little one’s education, and John was more than happy to both listen to the progress report and watch the man giving it.

And to wonder just what it might take for Harry to actually be interested in him in a romantic sense. Or, no, that wasn’t quite right. To wonder what it would take for Harry to act on the interest that John could read in every shy look that the wizard sent him.

He wasn’t sure, but he was determined to find out. But slowly. He had all the time in the world, after all, and it wouldn’t do to rush this. Spooking Harry at this point in the game was a terrible idea. Perhaps it would be best to wait for Harry to come to him. He had no doubt that the wizard would, with time.

ooOOooOOoo

Six months into his time as Harry’s tutor, Harry was out visiting with Michael and his brood. He’d firmly expected the Knight to turn on him as Murphy had, but Michael had done nothing of the sort. In fact, the only thing that had changed was that Harry had more regular dinners with the Carpenters, now that he wasn’t in danger of bringing whatever nasty he was chasing down on them.

“You seemed quiet tonight,” Michael began as he joined Harry on the porch. Dinner was long since over, the kids in bed, and Charity was in the kitchen finishing up the dishes. The food had been wonderful, the company had been great, and Harry was getting ready to head out.

“Just thinking,” he said, and turned to his friend. “Have I done the right thing?” he asked. It had been bothering him lately, wondering if he’d really done a good thing by giving up his business to move in with Marcone. He’d been doing so much good, and now… now he wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“What makes you think you haven’t?” Michael asked.

“I hear things, still, even if I’m not in the game anymore. That reporter, Susan, who used to bug me for information? I hear she’s dead. And I heard you almost got yourself killed a few weeks ago. I can’t help with that anymore.” Chicago was a dangerous place, and Harry felt terrible for withdrawing from its protection the way he had. It didn’t bother him most of the time, but sometimes things just hit him and he wondered if he would have been able to change something by being there, as with Susan.

Michael let out a thoughtful hum. There was a moment of silence and then, “I think that you’re doing a good thing, teaching this child. And I think that you’re happy, and that you deserve a chance to be happy. Let the weight of the world rest on somebody else’s shoulders for a change.”

Was he happy? Harry considered that in silence for a moment before coming to the conclusion that, yes, he actually was happy. For the first time in his life, he felt contented. He wasn’t trying desperately to do the right thing so that the Council didn’t come down on him, he wasn’t starving so that he could run a business that nobody took seriously. He was helping a kid learn to control his power.

Maybe that wasn’t as important as saving the world, but it sure as hell felt good. And there wasn’t anything wrong with that. Besides, wasn’t saving the world what the White Council was for?

ooOOooOOoo

Time flew for Harry and before he knew it, he’d been working with John and tutoring little Harry for a year. The kid was amazing, and Harry thanked everything out there that he’d been the one John had chosen to train the child because it would be so easy for a less scrupulous person to misuse the boy. Harry’s own guardian, Justin, would have had no end of ways to do that.

Things were looking up in Chicago, too. John had taken over quite a few of the less scrupulous underworld activities, and had somehow managed to all but banish the Red Court from Chicago. Harry wasn’t sure how, and he wasn’t sure that he cared. Such a change could only be for the better. John had also allied himself quite nicely with the White Court, which had brought another excellent thing into Harry’s life: his brother, Thomas Raith.

Things were looking up for Harry Dresden, and Harry was pretty sure he had John to thank for all of it. The man was... he was something. It was frightening how much Harry liked the man, considering how much he’d hated the idea of him before he’d agreed to work for him. But the man had an allure to him, and Harry found himself wanting to spend more and more time with him, and had to force himself to leave John alone with Harry sometimes.

It wasn’t until he was working in his lab with Bob on a potion that Harry was forced to realize what was really going on between himself and John, and that was only because of Bob’s blunt nature.

“So, boss, when are you gonna go on a real date with John, anyway?” the skull asked.

Harry was so startled that he dropped a glass vial into the potion, ruining an hour of hard work. “What are you talking about?” he asked as he dealt with the noxious fumes he’d accidentally created. Fortunately they just smelled bad; they weren’t actually dangerous.

Bob sighed. “John. You know, the guy you’ve sorta kinda been crushing on for the past six months at least? When are you gonna go out with him?”

“I wasn’t... I mean, I haven’t been...” Harry took a deep breath. “Oh, stars and stones, have I really? I’ve never… I mean, you know that I haven’t… Hell’s bells, you know I like girls!”

“Hey, hey, calm down! No panicking! The lab is a panic free zone, I don’t know how to deal with you when you get all emotional and everything!” Bob said hastily. “You’re not attracted to him, clearly, my mistake. You two just eyefuck each other whenever you’re in the room, that’s all. But you’re totally not attracted to him.”

Of course, now that Bob had put the thought into his head, Harry wondered if it was true. Was he really attracted to John? If so, should he say something? If he said something and John hated him for it, what would happen then? He was sort of attached to little Harry by now, and being fired for expressing an inappropriate interest in John wasn’t high on his list of things to do before he died. Assuming that John even fired him and didn’t just have him executed.

Oh, Empty Night. What was he going to do now that the thought wouldn’t leave him alone?


	7. Chapter Six

Harry was eight years old, and he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t know what was going on, but all of a sudden Uncle Harry wasn’t eating meals with them anymore. And Dad was getting upset about it. That just wasn’t okay. Dad was a great person, and Uncle Harry was a great person, so why weren’t they getting along?

Which wasn’t to say that Harry didn’t enjoy some of what was coming from this newfound tension. When he’d tried complaining to Uncle Harry about how he missed eating dinners with him, Harry had instead been invited out to his tutor’s now-weekly meals with the Carpenters. They had a lot of kids, and all of them were nice.

Harry liked spending time with them. But that still wasn’t fair to his Dad! Dad didn’t deserve to be alone, which was what led him to this. It seemed a terribly drastic thing, going to this particular person for advice, but Harry couldn’t think of anyone else who might be able to help him. And he needed help, because he had no clue about what had changed between his Dad and his Uncle.

“Hi, Bob,” Harry chirped as he entered the potion’s lab. He wasn’t really supposed to be in the lab without Uncle Harry, but this was really important! Uncle Harry would understand. He had to. He also wasn’t technically supposed to know about Bob, but it totally wasn’t his fault that the skull had spoken to him before he’d realized that it was him and not Uncle Harry.

“Hey, scarface,” the skull answered. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“But I needed to talk to somebody,” Harry answered, and hopped up onto the stool at the counter where Bob’s skull was settled.

“What’ve you got for me, squirt?” Bob asked.

“I think something’s wrong with Da... with Uncle John and Uncle Ha... Mr. Dresden.” Harry fidgeted on his stool and pulled over a bowl full of shredded dollar bills to fiddle with while he spoke to the skull. Anything to distract himself from his slips. Just because he called them that in his head didn’t mean he was ready to call them that out loud.

“You know you probably could call them both by the names you want to call them,” Bob pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes. He knew that, because, “Doc told me that a year ago. I probably could but that’s not why I needed to talk to you.” He knew they would probably love to be called by those names, but he just… he wasn’t ready.

“Well, what’s up then?”

That was what Harry liked about Bob. Yes, he was a pervert stuck in a skull who had probably done something terrible in the past, but he was always willing to talk to Harry. And he always gave the best advice, especially when it came to getting into trouble. Not that Harry knew from practical experience or anything.

“Uncle John and... and Uncle Harry have been acting weird for a while. Like, a few months a while. I’m worried that Uncle Harry’s gonna leave, or that Uncle John’s gonna make him go,” Harry confessed. “Things have been real tense when it’s just them and me.”

“Oh, kid, they aren’t tense because Harry wants to leave, or because John wants to get rid of him!” Bob exclaimed. “They’re just tense because both John and Harry want to... to spend more time together, but they’re not sure how to fit it into their busy schedules, that’s all!”

Harry scowled. “That’s stupid!” he declared, then looked around guiltily. He really wasn’t supposed to use that phrase, either. “I’m gonna fix it!”

Mission decided, he hopped down from his perch and ran from the lab, full of an eight year old’s righteous fury and fear of being punished. He didn’t even stop to wonder why Bob was cackling with laughter behind him.

ooOOooOOoo

Fixing the problem, now that he knew what it was, turned out to be a lot harder than Harry had thought. He tried tons of stuff, and none of it seemed to work.

First, he tried disappearing and eating his meals alone. That only made Uncle Harry and Da... Uncle John panic and increase his visits to the good doctor. So that was scrapped.

Next, he tried hinting at places he wanted to go with both of them, like the zoo, and then wandering off once they were there, but that made Hendricks really mad, to say nothing of his two guinea pigs. And Hendricks was really scary when he was mad, so that plan went the way of the dinosaurs.

Then he tried to send them off on a hunt for Mister, Uncle Harry’s massive cat, but Mister didn’t cooperate with that at all. They only had to go to the living room to find him, and Mister didn’t much appreciate the scolding he got for not going further when Harry found out. So that went over like a lead balloon.

Finally, he came up with his best plan yet. If they wouldn’t behave themselves and spend time together when Harry just gave them the option to do so, then he would just have to make them! And take away any other options, of course.

And he had the most perfectest idea ever, he just needed a little bit more help from Bob.

ooOOooOOoo

When Harry came to him crying, saying that he couldn’t find Mr. Dresden anywhere and he’d looked everywhere, John went on full alert. Harry hadn’t really been involved in anything lately, hadn’t rocked any boats that John was aware of, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still some kind of target. For one thing, he did work for John and John certainly had enemies. Although none had managed to actually attack his ward since the day when John had first realized the little one was magical, and Harry the elder was certainly more than capable of taking care of himself as he’d shown the one time he was attacked on his way back from a visit to the Carpenters.

John immediately left his ward safe in his office with Nathan and instructions not to leave it and went in search of his wizard. He first checked Harry’s lab, which was generally a safe bet. Next he went to the room where the two had their classes, and finally he checked Harry’s bedroom. The door was cracked open and the room was dark inside, so John hesitantly pushed it all the way open. Harry was there, thank god, curled up in the bed, asleep.

Aside from the fact that it was only three o’clock in the afternoon and he had the heavy curtains drawn to block the light, he looked perfectly fine. He looked like somebody that John could easily curl around and take a nap with, actually. But no. John was intruding. He knew that he had to go before he did something stupid and embarrassing.

He turned to leave, only to find a dark green, shimmering barrier between himself and the door. When he crossed the room and checked the window behind the curtains, he found the same barrier in place. There didn’t appear to be a way out of the room that wasn’t blocked, actually.

Was this some kind of trap? Had some wizard imprisoned both himself and Harry for some dark purpose? What if they were going to do something to his ward? And then he heard a childish, familiar giggle that made him see a little bit of red and woke poor Harry with the most adorable start ever.

“Bob told me that you two needed to spend more time together and that was why things were so tense, so I thought I would help out! These wards will dis.. disint... go away eventually! If they don’t, I might need to get Bob to help me figure out what I did wrong. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I know, so I’ll see you both in a bit!”

“What?” John asked flatly, and turned to stare at Harry. “Did you teach my son to imprison us?” he asked.

Harry was yawning and rubbing at his eyes. “No, no I didn’t. But these are actually pretty basic. I could overpower them, but I’d kind of like to see if he did do them properly.” Harry yawned again and added, “And I heard what you just called him, by the way.” He offered John a sleepy smile. “I think it’s cute.”

John groaned. He’d been so careful lately to try to not spook Harry, and here he was, stuck in a bedroom with the man. And apparently his ward had noticed that things were a little tense between the two of them. Could this really get any worse?

Never mind. That was a stupid question, and he absolutely took it back. Of course it could.

ooOOooOOoo

Waking up from his nap to finding out that his brat of an apprentice had imprisoned them was actually kind of funny. Waking up to John being really irritated about that same fact was somewhat less so. The groan that John let out made Harry wince in actual, physical pain.

Before he could stop to think about it, to censor himself, Harry found himself blurting out, “Is the thought of spending a few hours alone with me really all that bad?” And then he wanted to kick himself. Was he really going that route? That seemed like a terrible idea, and he sounded like some kind of jealous housewife.

John looked genuinely shocked, an expression that was swiftly followed by horror. “What? No, god, Harry, this isn’t about...” John crossed the room at once and settled on the bed next to Harry without so much as a by your leave. Not that Harry would have stopped him, of course. “I’ve been...” John groaned again, and this time he covered his eyes with one hand.

“You’ve been what?” Harry asked, belligerent in his t-shirt and boxers and insecurity.

“You aren’t...” John let out a small huff, and then took his hand from his face. “You’ve been a little... skittish lately, and I haven’t wanted to push.”

Harry froze. He hadn’t realized that John had noticed. He supposed John would have to have been an idiot not to, though. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Subtlety. “It’s just that I-” Harry cut off. It’s just that I’m pretty sure that I love you and don’t know how to say it, he wanted to say, but that was a terrible idea. He still wasn’t sure how that would go over with John.

“You know, saying it would have been a lot easier,” John murmured, his gorgeous green eyes softening. And then Harry realized that he’d spoken aloud.

“I didn’t... I mean, I-” Harry cut off when John surged forward abruptly and claimed his lips with his own. The kiss was everything Harry had ever imagined it to be, passionate and warm and perfect all at once.

When John pulled back, a smile on his lips, his forehead pressed against Harry’s, he whispered, “I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual, by the way.”

And then they were kissing again, and it was hot and wet and wonderful, and by the time either of them had the presence of mind to check the barrier, it was down.

ooOOooOOoo

It wasn’t fair.

Try to do a good thing for people, and this is what happened. Standing in a corner, all by himself, listening as his Dad and his Uncle laughed at something on the specially shielded television. He’d only been helping! And it had worked, too! All of the strange behavior had stopped, but now they were both mad at him.

Adults were weird, Harry concluded. Very weird. And he was still stuck in his corner! This just wasn’t fair!

“Have you figured out why you’re stuck there, yet?” Uncle Harry asked him. Harry would have been happier if the mean old wizard hadn’t sounded like he was choking on laughter.

“Because you won’t tell me how to override the ward?” Harry asked sulkily. He crossed his arms and offered Uncle Harry his best pout.

It did no good. “If you can put a ward like this up, you ought to be able to take it down. What would you have done if you hadn’t put that ward up properly?” Uncle Harry had knelt down now, and was holding Harry’s gaze with his own stony one.

“I would’ve asked Bob what I did wrong, and he would have taught me how to fix it,” Harry shot back. He hadn’t done anything wrong! He’d known he was doing it right; Bob had made him go over it a million times before he’d put it to the test!

Uncle Harry groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. “But what if Bob hadn’t been able to help you? Or worse, what if Bob hadn’t wanted to help?”

“But Bob’s great!” Harry protested. “He’s the best! He always has great ideas!”

“He’s a rotten spirit whose skull is going to be hidden for the rest of your childhood is what he is,” Uncle Harry muttered. “What if what had gone wrong had stayed wrong for a few days? Did you think of how uncomfortable that would be for John and I?”

“But nothing went wrong! The ward came down after a few hours, just like I said it would! Just like Bob taught me!” And then he fidgeted, stared down at the floor, and admitted, “So maybe I shouldn’t have done it,” sulkily.

“You definitely shouldn’t have done it,” Uncle Harry said severely, and then the ward collapsed around him. He scooped Harry up into his arms and whispered in his ear, “But between you and me? That was a clever bit of work. Thanks, brat.”

Harry giggled, and then that giggle turned to outright laughter when he was plopped down in front of the television between Dad and Uncle Harry and tickling fingers dug into his sides. This was much better than being stuck in a corner!

But Harry would still totally do it again because things were already so much better than they’d been at the start of the week.


	8. Chapter Seven

Just before Harry turned ten, he began to work on his very own first staff and wand set. Up until now he’d been doing minor incantations that required neither, but Uncle Harry believed that both items would help him with his focus. Not that Harry was doing badly without them, but he was having a little bit of trouble. He was still a little young for it, but Uncle Harry seemed to think it was time.

“I think I messed up,” Harry muttered as he dropped the knife he was using to carve the symbol into the staff. He’d spent the past two weeks learning all about runes and selecting the ones he wanted. And now, on his third day of carving, he’d messed it up. He’d have to restart.

Uncle Harry came over to peer at the staff. He clapped Harry on the shoulder and said, “Keep going,” cheerfully. “The mistakes give it character.”

“Won’t they mess up the way that it works?” Harry asked. His nose was wrinkling. He didn’t like the idea of continuing if it was already messed up. That seemed wrong somehow.

“Nah. It’s all in the mind. Your staff will channel your energy because you want it to, not necessarily because of the runes carved on it. Although I won’t lie, the runes will help.”

“If I don’t need the runes, then why am I carving them to begin with?” Harry asked. This was ridiculous. It was tedious and boring and he didn’t want to do it, and to find out that it was maybe all for nothing because the staff would work with or without the carvings was just annoying.

“Because they make the staff yours, and items you have a personal connection with are better for channelling your magical energies. Items that are definitely yours, that you have an attachment to, are also harder to use against you.” The female voice startled Harry and he turned to glower at his Dad’s new business associate, Ms. Gard. She’d shown up for a few of his lessons since she’d been hired, and he hadn’t realized she was there.

Harry turned back to his staff-in-progress and glowered at it. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?” he asked, even as he picked up the knife once more. Tedious and boring, and not at all fun.

“Nope! You’ll be doing this once a day, every day, for an hour until your design is complete,” Uncle Harry confirmed cheerfully.

Harry sighed and started carving once more. Soonest begun and all that nonsense. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry’s tenth birthday was being held at his house, and the Carpenters were in attendance. Originally, he’d been supposed to go over with Dad and Uncle Harry, but there was some sort of security thing. It had looked like he wasn’t even going to get to have a birthday party, and Harry had been okay with that. Really, he had been.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t really excited when he came downstairs for breakfast and found the Carpenters waiting for him with big grins on their faces. All six children were there, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter, but Harry was most excited to see Molly. She was three years older than him, thirteen to his ten, and she was pretty okay for a girl. She didn’t mind that he could talk to snakes, at least, which always weirded out her younger siblings even if they never said. She was also really interested in his magical training, which was also more than could be said of her siblings. Harry loved to spend time with her.

It was because of this that Harry found himself seeking her out when he couldn’t find her after lunch. The Carpenters would be heading home soon, and Harry wanted to spend at least a little bit of time with her before she went.

She’d been somewhat quiet and a bit moody all day, though she’d never snapped at Harry. He found that he was a little worried about her, actually, because it wasn’t like her to just disappear in the middle of the day like she had.

Fortunately, she’d disappeared in Harry’s house, which meant there really wasn’t anywhere Molly could have hidden that Harry couldn’t find her. It didn’t take him long at all to track her down. She was on the second floor, in one of the unused offices, staring out the window. Her hand was cupped oddly in front of her, as though she were holding something.

“Molly?” Harry asked.

Molly jumped and whirled around, and the lick of flame in the palm of her hand vanished as though it had never been. “Harry!” she squeaked.

But Harry had seen. “Molly! You’ve got the Talent too!” he cheered, and bounced a bit in joy. She could join him in his lessons! She would be a wizard just like him!

But Molly wasn’t smiling. In fact, her face transformed into a fearsome scowl. “You can’t tell anyone,” she insisted, her voice tense and angry and just a little bit scared.

“What? Why not?” Harry asked, even as he stepped further into the room. “Don’t you want to take lessons with me? I’m sure Uncle Harry would love to have you!”

“You’re assuming that I’d even be allowed to take lessons,” Molly said bitterly. “Have you met my parents? Do you really think they’d let me get involved with this stuff?”

“I think it’d be awfully mean of them not to,” Harry answered. “I mean, your dad does some pretty dangerous stuff. And he gets along with me and Uncle Harry just fine, so it isn’t like he’ll hate you for having the Talent, right?”

“Of course he won’t! It’s not him I’m worried about, is it?” Molly turned around and went back to staring out the window. “You can’t tell them, Harry. Please. I don’t think my mom could handle it.”

Harry frowned. That didn’t seem right to him, to hide this because Molly was scared. Having magic was a gift, but it was a dangerous one. Uncle Harry had told him all about the dangers of uncontrolled magic. But if Molly didn’t want to say anything, then it really wasn’t Harry’s place to say.

“I won’t say anything,” he said finally, though he hated to do it. “But you have to promise you’ll think about telling your parents, okay?”

When she turned back to him, her smile was shaky at best. “I’ll think about it, squirt,” she answered. “Now, you’ve got a few hours left in your birthday, don’t you? Why don’t we go back down and join the others?”

Harry forced himself to smile back at her. “Okay!” he chirped, and lunged forward. He grabbed her hand and dragged her from the room and hoped that he hadn’t made a mistake by making her that promise. No, of course he hadn’t. Molly would be just fine.

ooOOooOOoo

That evening, after everyone had gone home and both his Dad and his Uncle had retired to bed, Harry did something he wasn’t supposed to. He needed to go outside, but he didn’t want to bother anyone, so he snuck out of the house. He knew it was a bad idea, but he just… it felt like something was calling him and he really, really needed to go out and find it.

He found himself in the gardens, and the feeling was getting worse. He couldn’t figure out what it was, what was causing it, until he heard the soft, pathetic whimpering sound from just under a hedge. He hesitated and considered going back in to get Dad, but that would mean admitting that he broke the rules and no, not on his birthday. He didn’t want to stand in a corner! Instead, he hesitantly approached the hedge where the noise was coming from and crouched down in front of it.

There was a puppy, small and grey and fluffy, cowering beneath it. When it spotted Harry, it whimpered pathetically at him and stumbled towards him. It looked like it had been on its own for weeks, and was so very thin and filthy. Harry’s heart melted at the sight.

He reached out, hesitantly, and patted the puppy on the head. “It’s all right, I’ve found you,” he whispered, and he felt a distinct feeling of relief. The need which had pulled him out here in the first place abated, and Harry scooped the little one into his arms. “You must be starving,” he murmured, and carefully snuck the puppy back into the house.

The puppy whined and cried a bit once they were inside, and Harry shushed him absently. He couldn’t be caught with a dog! He wasn’t sure what Dad would do, and there was Mister to worry about, which meant that he probably wouldn’t be allowed to keep him. Which meant that he had to keep him a secret.

He managed to smuggle the puppy into his room and settled the puppy on the bed, not caring at all about the dirt and muck now transferring to his blankets. It would wash. “Listen, I’m gonna go get you food, but you need to be quiet, okay?” he whispered. “If you get caught, I might have to get rid of you and I really don’t want to.”

The puppy cocked its head to one side, but made no noise. Harry could have almost sworn that the dog understood him, but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Getting the food was an adventure in and of itself, but not as dangerous as smuggling the dog into the house in the first place. Harry was allowed in the kitchens whenever he wanted to be, after all, and this late at night there was nobody awake. He simply had to go in, and find… nothing. They didn’t have any dog food in the house. Well, of course they wouldn’t! There wasn’t supposed to be a dog in the house, was there?

Harry scowled at the kitchen, then he got an idea. He went over to the fridge and pulled out one of the steaks they were supposed to be having for dinner tomorrow night. Whoever cooked would just assume they’d accidentally bought the wrong number, that was all. And it was going to a good cause. Really, it was.

After he got the steak up to his room and the puppy had devoured it, Harry sat studying him. “You need a bath,” he informed the dog, “And a name. Are you a boy puppy or a girl puppy, anyway?”

The dog provided no answer, merely continued licking at his paws.

“I guess I could give you a name that could go either way,” Harry said uncertainly. “You’re very cute. And grey. And fluffy.” He frowned and looked around his room for inspiration. Nothing came to him, at least, not until he spotted one of Mister’s toy mice, abandoned in the middle of the floor. “Mouse!”

The dog perked up and let out a small woof of acknowledgement.

“Your name is Mouse, then!” Harry said, and grinned. He had a dog named Mouse. This was the best birthday ever. Now he just had to keep his parents from finding the dog. His Dad and his Uncle, he meant. And if they did find him, well, he probably shouldn’t look so much like a stray. Which meant, “Mouse, you need a bath!”

And that was really weird, because Mouse actually looked a little scared when Harry said that. Maybe he could… no. No, that was ridiculous. Dogs didn’t understand English!

ooOOooOOoo

“Your son has been taking raw meat up to his room every night,” Harry began as he leaned against the entrance to John’s office, “And I’m a little disturbed when I try to think about what he’s doing with it.”

“I love how he’s my son when he’s doing something wrong,” John answered, settling his pen down and offering Harry a smile.

That was all the invitation Harry needed to cross the room, bend down, and kiss John chastely on the lips. Of course, when John followed him up and seized his lips in a more passionate kiss, Harry didn’t object. And he didn’t object when he somehow wound up sitting on John’s desk, John standing between his parted legs, their bodies grinding together a little bit desperately. Empty night, he hadn’t felt like this when he was a teenager; how did John always manage to do this to him?

“He’s always your son,” Harry retorted, just a bit breathless, once they were both spent. “I just borrow him sometimes.”

John’s forehead was pressed against his own, his breathing coming a little quick and heavy in the aftermath. “We should go investigate his room,” John said finally, and drew away.

“We might want to clean up first,” Harry suggested, even as he lowered his legs from where they’d coiled around John’s hips. “I don’t really feel comfortable going into Harry’s room right after that.” Not that Harry would have any idea what they’d been.... actually, no. Strike that. The little brat was a bloody genius. He would absolutely know what they’d been up to, and they’d have to endure his smirking, and no. No. That just wasn’t happening.

He was too damn old to be smirked at by a ten year old.

John sighed. “I thought the real trouble wasn’t supposed to start until they were teenagers,” he muttered, and leaned forward to kiss Harry once more. This was softer, sweeter, and Harry couldn’t resist leaning into it.

“Don’t worry, we’ve still got that to look forward to, as well,” Harry whispered, and finally pulled all the way away. “Seriously. We need to go look into this now. In fact, we should have looked into it awhile ago, but nobody thought to tell us there was meat disappearing from the kitchen. The list of things he could be doing with all that meat is very short, and there isn’t much good on it. I don’t want the White Council coming down on his head.”

John scowled. “I don’t like that they have so much power over you,” he muttered, even as he made his way towards the bathroom just off his office. They could clean up there; they’d done so a number of times in the past.

Harry scowled as well. This was a familiar argument. “And as I said, for the five thousandth time, there isn’t really anything we can do about the power they have over me. I just have to be careful not to break any of the Laws, that’s all.”

“I don’t like that you’re unable to use every weapon at your disposal to defend yourself,” John muttered as they both stripped down and slid into the shower.

This was a very familiar argument, and now wasn’t the time to be having it. That meant that Harry was going to have to be, ugh, responsible and cut it off before it could really get going. They had more important things to worry about right now. “And I keep telling you, I don’t leave the mansion much without little Harry, which means that I don’t leave without at least ten or fifteen of your men with us. That I can’t kill with magic isn’t really a huge problem. And I still won’t be your hit wizard, no matter how hot you are.”

John chuckled softly. “No, I know. And don’t think I don’t appreciate you relaxing your stance on supernatural consultation, by the way. You know that you’re invaluable, right?”

Harry flushed and hopped out of the shower before John noticed. “Thanks,” he said quickly, and toweled off. He slipped into a clean pair of underwear and pants, and waited for John to finish up. It amused him that quickies in John’s office were frequent enough that they had to keep the nearby bathroom fully stocked with both of their clothing, but it sort of scandalized Harry as well. Seriously, he hadn’t been a teenager in far too long for John to have that sort of effect on him.

That John seemed to be proud of said effect made it that much more annoying.

ooOOooOOoo

John knew that they were in trouble when his son gave them the guiltiest, most pleading look he’d ever seen from the child. Ever. And that included the time the boy had found a snake that had offered him an egg, and John had refused. They didn’t need snakes. Period. While he didn’t mind that his son could talk to them, that didn’t mean that it didn’t still freak him out just a little bit to hear it.

“No, seriously, what manner of demon have you summoned that you’re hiding in your room?” Harry was asking, scowling down at the little demon with the huge and watery green eyes.

“He’s not a demon!” Harry shouted, his watery green eyes going from watery to defiant in about five seconds, give or take.

John groaned. “And what is he, then?” he asked, and Harry tried to slam the door on him. The brat!

John stuck his foot in the door and shouldered it open, not willing to be patient any longer. This wasn’t cute, it wasn’t funny, and if Harry was in some kind of danger he was going to kill the source and then kill his kid. What had he gotten himself into?

John took one step into the room, and then he froze. There was a low, menacing snarl coming from just in front of Harry, and when he looked down, there was a giant grey ball of fluff growling at him.

“You found a dog?” Harry, the elder, asked, head falling to one side in confusion. “You... why didn’t you say something?”

“Mouse, no, this is my Dad,” Harry, the younger, said, and the dog stopped growling and went to settle on top of the bed. “I really like him! Can I keep him? I’ve only had him for a little bit, but I’ve been taking really good care of him!” And then Harry frowned, and said, “Well, as good as I can, anyway. I mean, we don’t exactly have dog food so I’ve been sneaking meat to feed him, but it’s been working just fine! Look at him, he’s a great dog. Can’t I keep him, please?”

“I should say no on principle alone,” John muttered, raising a hand to rub at his suddenly aching temples. The dog on the bed growled viciously at him, and John took a startled step back. “Do you understand me?” he asked the dog hesitantly, but the dog did not respond.

Harry, meanwhile, softhearted idiot who John adored that he was, crossed the room and reached out hesitantly to touch the dog’s fluffy grey fur. “Can we keep him?” Harry asked, and added his brown eyes to the younger Harry’s.

Fuck.

John supposed they’d just obtained a dog, because he could barely say no to one of them, much less both.


	9. Chapter Eight

“Harry, correct me if I’m wrong, but is that bird carrying a letter?” John asked, studying the bird perched on the windowsill of the room where the three of them typically ate breakfast.

Today, of course, it was four. Molly Carpenter joined them during the weekends these days, ever since she’d finally come clean to her parents and they’d approached Harry to see if he would take her on as an apprentice as well. Harry, of course, had been more than happy to oblige his oldest friend who wasn’t trapped in a skull, and had done so gladly.

It seemed to be good for him, too. Two apprentices were really keeping him on his toes, especially since Molly and Harry the younger had two very different skill sets. According to Harry, Molly was going to be a very subtle type of witch, while Harry was definitely on the wrecking ball side of things, much like Harry himself.

John was pleased to see how much Harry was enjoying his two apprentices, in fact. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d noted a certain... restlessness in his lover lately. Harry was a phenomenal person, meant to do great things. He wasn’t really doing anything great while he was just sitting about in John’s mansion, not that there was anything wrong with that. But before Molly had been apprenticed to him, he’d noticed a certain... depression, almost, taking over his lover.

If it had gone on much longer, John was pretty sure he would have had to insist that Harry re-open his detective agency, or to take the job with Monoc Securities that Ms. Gard kept offering to him, and he really didn’t want to have to do that.

“That... oh. Hell’s bells, is it really that time already?” Harry muttered, and now he sounded just as depressed as he had during the worst of the slump he’d just come out of.

John raised one eyebrow and watched as the wizard crossed the room, opened the window, and let the bird inside. His lover went to take the letter from the owl, only to have it jerk back with a disgruntled hoot. Harry scowled and said, “I’m not letting our child take a letter from an unknown source, even if I’m pretty sure I know where you’re from. You’ll give it to me or he won’t get the letter.” The owl, unsurprisingly, surrendered the letter. Harry then muttered, “I suppose you’ll be waiting on a response, then?”

The bird hooted, and Harry sighed, crossed the room once again, and took some bacon from the table. He crumbled it up and dropped it in front of the owl, which began to snack daintily on the proferred treat.

“Care to explain?” John asked, and then Molly and Harry and Mouse ran pell-mell into the room, Mouse at the lead with a ball, Molly bringing up the rear and laughing so hard she could barely breathe. When Mouse stopped short at the sight of the owl on the windowsill, Harry tripped over him and Molly’s laughter grew louder at the sight.

“We’ll talk once the munchkins are done with breakfast,” Harry said, and if there was an affected look of cheer on his face, John was good enough not to call him on it. He was gracious like that.

Meanwhile, Mouse was investigating the bird on the windowsill, sniffing at it curiously. Eventually the dog sneezed twice, then settled down in front of it, not even going for the bird’s bacon. John was pretty sure there was something very off about that dog, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

That Ms. Gard seemed to smile every time she spotted him certainly reinforced that image, and that Bob wouldn’t make dirty jokes while the dog was in the room only made that reinforcement seem more like stainless steel reinforcing.

“Hey, what’s the bird?” Molly asked, even as she settled at the table to eat her breakfast.

“You’re the bird!” Harry accused, giggling helplessly into his plate of eggs and bacon.

“You’re a birdbrain,” Molly shot back, but it was entirely too amused for John to believe she actually meant anything by it.

“I’ll give you a birdbrain!” Harry shrieked in the shrill tone of overly hyper children everywhere.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” John interjected. “You’ll finish your breakfast, and then you’ll go with Ms. Gard to do something educational.” The children both looked down at their plates, a bit chagrined. “And no, Sigrun, I don’t particularly care what that something is,” he added, before she could ask.

He was a little too concerned about the look on Harry’s face to worry about the children just then. They would be perfectly fine in Sigrun’s care, and Harry certainly deserved his full attention to deal with whatever crisis had just come up.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry hated this. He knew it had to happen, though, and he hated that he would probably have to argue for something that he hated even the idea of.

Harry was theirs! He was their little lightning bolt, and he’d changed everything when John had taken him from his disgusting Aunt and Uncle. Without the little one, he had no idea how he would have ended up, but somehow he doubted it was anywhere half so good as this. And without John, who knew how Harry might have turned out? Harry could still remember what John had said about his first meeting with the little one. Growing up with those monsters who’d had him before could have damaged Harry irreparably. John had saved him from that possibility and had done a hell of a job raising the kid.

And now those same monsters who’d abandoned a defenseless baby to live with those horrible Dursleys were trying to get Harry to go to their school? Harry didn’t like it. Not at all. For all he cared about, they could go fuck themselves. But…

But that was the culture his parents had come from. Hogwarts was the school that Lily and James Potter had graduated from. Didn’t Harry deserve the chance to get to know that side of his history? Was it really fair for Harry to stand in the way of that?

“Do you want to tell me about the owl?” John asked gently, once the children and Sigrun were gone.

“She’s got a letter for Harry. It’s inviting him to the school that his parents graduated from, Hogwarts. He...” Harry shook his head and, after a moment of internal debate, muttered, “He should probably go.”

“Aren’t these the same people that you’ve described in the past as isolationists?” When Harry nodded, John scowled. “Why in the world would you think that he should go to a school like that?”

“Because his parents went there. His birth parents, I mean. And he deserves to learn about them, and about the society they lived in.” He sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the table. “There are also aspects of his magic that I can’t teach him, no matter how much I want to. I just… our magic doesn’t work properly. When he’s fully trained, there will be so much more that he can do that I can’t. And he deserves to be fully trained.”

“We could hire a tutor,” John said, but he sounded like he didn’t even believe what he was saying.

“After all the trouble you went to when you were trying to find one earlier? Neither Sigrun nor I know enough about Harry’s birth society to even tell you if his tutor is any good. How would we make sure the education he was receiving was good enough?” Harry didn’t like this. He really didn’t like this. But this wasn’t about what he liked. It was about what their lightning bolt needed, what would be best for him. “Hogwarts is one of the best schools in their society, even I know that. And it’s supposed to be one of the safest.”

John sighed, came forward, and looped his arms around Harry’s waist. “You really think we should do this?” he asked morosely.

“I really do,” Harry confirmed.

And so it was decided. Harry, their little lightning bolt, would be going away for school. Now it was just a matter of obtaining supplies...

ooOOooOOoo

The next month was a whirlwind of activity, and Harry couldn’t be happier. He was going away to a really awesome boarding school where he’d learn all about magic, and maybe some stuff about his parents! How cool was that going to be?

The only bad part was that he wasn’t allowed to take Mouse because Mouse was neither a cat, a toad, or an owl. But even that was okay because he would see Mouse during the Christmas break, and now he had an owl to communicate with Uncle Harry and his Dad. And that was awesome. And he was going to miss Molly, but he could send her letters too! And now that he was going away to school, he’d be able to make more friends. Not that Molly and her family weren’t great, but it might be nice to meet people who didn’t know him as Gentleman Johnny Marcone’s son.

And the train platform was so cool! Even if he was really sad to be saying goodbye to Dad and Uncle Harry, he was really excited because he was going on an adventure! He found himself waving goodbye with Hedwig the owl perched on his shoulder as the train pulled away from Platform 9 ¾. He wasn’t even really all that sad yet!

This year was going to be awesome!


	10. Chapter Nine

_September 1st_

_Dear Dad and Uncle Harry,_

_Hogwarts is really cool! There’s this awesome ceiling that looks just like the sky outside, and there’s this talking hat that tells you where you’re going to spend the rest of your seven years at Hogwarts! I’m in Gryffindor, because I’m really brave. It tried to send me to Slytherin, but there was this really mean boy that went to Slytherin and I didn’t want to go with him. And I’m sorted with my new friend, Ron! He’s awesome too. I hope you can meet him during Christmas._

_They didn’t call me by my proper name, though. They called me Harry Potter, and I had to correct them. I know that you legally adopted me, so it’s Harry Marcone, and I made sure that they knew that. My new Head of House didn’t look pleased by that, in fact, she kinda looked like she sucked on a lemon! And then I had to go and talk to the Headmaster after the sorting, and he asked all these weird questions about who you were and how you came to be my guardian._

_I didn’t like the questions, so I wasn’t very cooperative. I’ll write again to let you know how classes went!_

_Love you, and make sure that Mouse is behaving himself!_

_-Harry_

ooOOooOOoo

  
_September 3rd_

_Dearest Harry,_

_Mouse is behaving himself as he always does, which is to say that he is being exemplary without your undue influence. He does, however, miss you quite a lot, as do we all. Yes, it has only been a day or so since we parted, but it has been a very long time since you haven’t been with us._

_While I enjoy your account of the ceiling and your sorting, Harry and I find ourselves more concerned with your Headmaster’s interest in your guardians. Please do continue to be uncooperative, and let us know if this line of questioning continues. If your Headmaster becomes too persistent, direct him in my direction. Harry and I are well equipped to handle such inquiries, and will certainly do so if required._

_Also, please remember to keep up with your regular studies as well. Studying at a magic school is all well and good, but I expect you to remain competent in all the areas you’ve been instructed in previously. Let us know when you’ve finished your current texts and we’ll be happy to send you others._

**_But don’t spend too much time studying. Get out there and make more friends. One friend is great, but two is even better. There’s a reason you went to this boarding school, after all. Get to know others like you. It’ll be good for you. --Uncle Harry_ **

_Yes, yes, and don’t forget to make friends and socialize._

_All our love,_   
_Dad and Uncle Harry_

ooOOooOOoo

_September 5th_

_Dear Dad and Uncle Harry,_

_Okay. I’m not enjoying this so much anymore. There’s this really mean teacher named Snape who I think wants to kill me, especially since I totally answered all of his potions questions on the first day of class (Thanks by the way Bob!). He called me an arrogant snot just like my father and stormed out of the classroom for a few minutes before coming back. When he did come back he didn’t even apologize but just got on with his lesson! Rude!_

_And our History class is taught by a ghost, which you would think would be interesting but really, really isn’t. He’s boring and even Hermione, our class bookworm, can’t stay awake for his lectures. I kind of hate him, especially when he gets stuck going on the same topic over and over and over again. It’s like that one time Molly and I kept asking Bob that one question and we accidentally got him stuck on that loop... oh, wait, you didn’t know about that did you? Just kidding! That totally honestly never happened. Ever. Not once._

_And I think that Dumbledore is going to try and get you to give up your rights to me or something, but I’m not sure how or why. He was just talking to me again after classes today about how he really doesn’t think that an American Muggle is the best person to be raising me..._

_I told him that he should talk to you about it and not me, and he simply patted me on the head and offered me a lemon drop. I may or may not have used one of those words that Uncle Harry tells me not to repeat._

_Love you, and tell Mouse and Bob that I miss them lots too! And Molly, and Ms. Gard, and Hendricks, and... and everyone!_   
_-Harry_

ooOOooOOoo

_September 7th_

_Dearest Harry,_

_You feel free to use whatever words you’d like with that Headmaster of yours. I disapprove entirely of the way that he is badgering you about this, and will certainly be seeking to find a way to do something to stop that._

**_Try to avoid taking candy from him. There are a lot of potions that could be put into something like that. And don’t think for even a minute that I’m going to forget about what you said about Bob. I’m asking him about it later tonight, and if I find that you two were asking him about something I’ve placed off-limits, you’d better believe you’ll be punished when you come home for Christmas. -- Uncle Harry_ **

_Ahh, thank you for that lovely image. Please, do attempt to avoid being potioned where your Uncle isn’t there to cure you, Harry. And no, before you ask, I won’t spare you whatever punishment he cooks up if indeed you’ve done something worthy of punishing._

_As to the difficulties with your teachers, my recommendations are as follows. For this Professor Snape, keep your head down for now. He sounds like nothing more than a common bully, and if you give him a reaction you will only encourage him. Continue to be exemplary in his class and eventually he should back down. And for the ghost, well, that’s what your textbook is for. Study it in class rather than listening to lecture, and hopefully you will learn something._

_We miss you quite a lot, and we send you all our love. And this lovely box of cookies that Charity baked for you. We didn’t even eat them, though we were sorely tempted._

_Love,_   
_Dad and Uncle Harry_

ooOOooOOoo

_September 12th_

_Dear Uncle Harry and Dad,_

_Today I made the house Quidditch team! You’re not supposed to be allowed to join until your second year, but I did some really impressive flying that I may or may not have been supposed to do, and I made the team because of it. They probably shouldn’t have rewarded me for that, because if I were stupider than I am, I would have taken it as permission to go about my business as usual. But you taught me better than that, and I totally put myself in the corner for five minutes to punish myself in your honor. So you don’t have to when I get home._

_Also, there’s a three-headed dog in the school that may or may not be trying to kill us all. Just saying. And there’s a teacher here that makes my scar really hurt. His name is Quirrell, he wears a really weird turban, and he reeks of garlic. I think he’s hiding something, and I really want to find out what._

_Love you all lots!_   
_-Harry_

ooOOooOOoo

_September 14th_

_Dearest Harry,_

_While I am both amused and impressed at your creativity when it comes to punishing yourself, I am not entirely convinced that you should be allowed to join this school team. It sounds terribly dangerous, and I’m not certain that I want you engaging in dangerous activities._

**_John, he deserves a chance to have fun. You know, like a normal kid. Love you Harry, and you’d better do well at this whole Quidditch thing! -- Uncle Harry_ **

_Right. Well, your Uncle has convinced me to allow this, loathe though I am to do so. You may continue to play this sport if you so choose, but be aware that if your grades show even the slightest of slips, I will require that you be removed from this team._

_Also, please endeavor to avoid the three-headed dog that may or may not be trying to kill you. Mouse would be offended if you wound up as puppy chow for any dog but him._

**_I’m going to be researching this Quirrell fellow, by the way. Until I can find any information on him, do your best to stay clear of him, yeah? -- Uncle Harry_ **

_Please do as your Uncle asks, Harry, and stay safe. Your Uncle and I are very worried about you. Stay safe, and we love you and miss you quite a lot. We will be coming to the castle to pick you up directly, as I would like to have words with this Headmaster of yours._

_All our love,_   
_Dad and Uncle Harry_

ooOOooOOoo

_November 3rd,_

_Dear Dad and Uncle Harry,_

_There was a thing with a mountain troll on Halloween night and I may or may not have been cornered by it. But I was trying to rescue a friend, and she’s okay and I’m okay and everyone’s okay, but it doesn’t matter because I have more important news! I’m gonna get to see a dragon hatch! Hagrid, my friend Hagrid who’s the groundskeeper, he’s got this dragon egg that he’s going to hatch, and we’re going to see it! Isn’t that cool?_

_I mean, I sort of wanted to come home right after the troll attack, but I’m really glad I waited to write you. The Headmaster suggested that I should, and he was right! I was really scared, but nevermind, because I’m good. I’m great! I don’t want to come home anymore! I’ll see you guys at Christmastime!_

_Miss you all so much, and tell Molly that I’ve finally found a girl who’s even less like a girl than she is. She’ll get a kick out of that! Also, the Headmaster keeps asking me really weird questions, and the other day I was called in to meet with Ron’s mom whose name is also Molly. That’s really weird. I think he wants to see if I’d rather live with her, so I was just as surly and uncooperative as Uncle Harry can be when you’re asking him to help you oppress a magical creature of some sort. Not that you would do that or anything._

_I’m really looking forward to seeing you both over Christmas! Are you still going to visit the castle with us? That’ll be so cool!_

_Love you!_   
_-Harry_

ooOOooOOoo

_November 5th_

_Dearest Harry,_

_I don’t even know where to begin with this letter. Please, please can you send us a letter without your ‘may or may not’? You may or may not think that it softens the blow of whatever shocking thing is coming after it, but it doesn’t. It instead serves as a red flag to make me aware that whatever is coming is something that I won’t appreciate._

_I do not like the idea of you engaging in combat with this mountain troll, but it’s clearly too late to do anything about that. I am even less enamored of the idea of your conversations with the Headmaster. While I am not in the habit of bullying magical beings, I certainly approve of your imitation of your Uncle as he would be should I ever engage in such an act._

_We are indeed still coming to the castle to fetch you, and I will not be picking a fight with Molly on your behalf while you are an ocean away. It was a good try, however. And please, please try to stay out of trouble for the next month._

**_You little scoundrel. You’ll have to swear to tell me all about what that baby dragon looks like when it hatches. Do you have any idea how jealous I am? I’ve never seen a dragon before! I wasn’t even sure they existed outside of mythology. Also, did you try Cold Iron against the troll? I’ve had some small amount of success with that. -- Uncle Harry_ **

_Please don’t try to find another mountain troll to try what Harry suggested. Stay safe, little one, and take care._

_All our love,_   
_Dad and Uncle Harry_


	11. Chapter Ten

“So when you said that Hogwarts was in a castle, you did in fact mean that Hogwarts was in a literal castle. Somehow, I didn’t realize that you meant an actual, honest to god castle,” John said as he stared at the castle before them. Harry had taken him through something called the Floo, which was an experience he was quite eager to never repeat. Judging by the way Mouse had sneezed when Harry had dragged him through, the dog hadn’t enjoyed the experience at all.

After arriving, the two of them, and Mouse, had hiked together from the quaint wizarding village up to the school grounds. Harry had said that the school itself had a Floo system, but the Headmaster had refused to key them into the system. They would have to walk, or they wouldn’t be able to come for the meeting. The insult of it did not escape John..

And just from that brief stop in the entirely wizarding town, John saw what Harry meant when he called the people paranoid isolationists. The most modern thing they had in the town was gas lamps, and even that seemed to be a bit too newfangled for some of the people. There were still a few stores with torches outside, for God’s sake. No wonder Gard had refused to go with them, saying that she didn’t want to be infected by their stupidity. Hendricks, unfortunately, hadn’t been allowed to come since he was a Muggle without legal ties to the wizarding world.

That this left himself and Harry alone and potentially vulnerable was also not a fact which escaped John’s notice.

“I did tell you it was a castle. What did you think I meant when I called it a castle, anyway? That’s a pretty descriptive term in and of itself you know,” Harry was grumbling, rubbing his arms briskly as they crossed the admittedly gorgeous grounds of the school. For all of its apparent faults, the place was beautiful. Too bad that beauty wasn’t quite enough to make up for it’s other faults.

And then they were almost to the castle, sparing John any response he might have had to give, because Mouse took off with a loud and joyous series of barks that made John’s ears ring. The massive puppy, now up to John’s waist, lunged forward and knocked into Harry who had apparently been waiting at the entrance to the school for them with a woman who did, indeed, look like she’d sucked on a lemon.

“Dad! Uncle Harry!” Harry called, laughing as he tried to fend off Mouse’s enthusiastic and affectionate doggy licks. “Hi Mouse!” he added, giggling. He flung his arms around the puppy and laughed happily as his fingers sunk into the fur.

John and Harry completed their walk to the front of the castle, then, and Harry the elder took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

John wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and leaned into him and murmured, “You okay?”

He himself was feeling more than a little off balance. With neither Sigrun nor Nathan with them, he was feeling a bit naked. Also, he was here with a bunch of wizards who would neither know nor respect the reputation of Gentleman Johnny Marcone. Above all else, John hated feeling vulnerable.

“I’m good,” Harry said finally, and pressed a kiss to the top of John’s head. “This is just a very old, very powerful place, and it’s pressing down on me a bit, that’s all.” Harry offered him a smile, and then they were both being struck by a small rocket in the legs.

“I missed you both so much you don’t even know I have so much to tell you and I’m really happy you’re both here now!” Harry gushed, and then had to stop to take several heaving gasps of breath. John used the opportunity to heft the child into his arms.

“You’re getting too big for this,” he said with a small grunt even as Harry nestled against him and wrapped his arms around his neck, choking him with a hug.

“Never!” Harry decreed, as though saying it so defiantly would make it so.

For all John knew, maybe that was the case. He stepped forward, Harry still on his hip and the older Harry’s arm slung around his shoulders easily. “You must be Professor McGonagall,” he said to the unpleasant looking older woman.

“And you must be Mr. Marcone,” she answered thinly. “The Headmaster would like to see you right away, if you don’t mind. That way you and your... son can get on with your holiday.”

John chose to ignore the hesitation before the word ‘son’. “As it happens,” he answered with a smile that bared his teeth, “I’m quite eager to meet with the man myself. Harry, Harry, and myself have quite a lot of catching up to do and I’d like to get this meeting over with.”

And with that, they entered the castle.

ooOOooOOoo

John was... at his finest as they entered the Headmaster’s office. Harry was somewhat less than at his finest, to be perfectly honest. This school weighed on him, pressing down upon him like a ton of bricks. It was a weight that many magical places took on after a time. He got the same feeling in the Nevernever, or when he visited the Council’s headquarters. It was miserable. He hated the feeling, and really hoped that their little lightning bolt didn’t feel like this all the time.

John settled into the seat across from the beaming, benevolent old man, and Harry sat next to him. Little Harry climbed into Harry’s lap and flung his arms around his neck, smiling and giggling as Mouse tried to climb up as well. Fortunately, this gave Harry the perfect excuse to not meet the wizard’s eyes. He didn’t have any interest in Soulgazing with the man, unless he had no other option.

“So, Headmaster, I understand that you wished to speak to both Harry and myself regarding our son?” John asked, and Harry shivered. He sounded powerful right then, and it was more than a little arousing which was entirely inappropriate since little Harry was on his lap. He imagined that was the tone that John would use when dealing with people that didn’t want to acknowledge his authority in Chicago, and it was an... interesting tone of voice, to say the least.

“I understand that you were kind enough to take Harry in just before there was an... incident with his family, but we feel as though he should be with members of the community Harry’s parents were from,” the old man was saying, in a kindly, benevolent voice.

“With all due respect, I am Harry’s father. I’ve had him since he was six. Would you really ask me to give him up?” John asked, voice dropping into an even more dangerous tone. Harry imagined it was the tone reserved for anybody who would attempt to use children. John hated that more than anything else.

Apparently the Headmaster didn’t realize the danger that Harry could see as something glaringly obvious. “I believe that would be best for the child, yes,” the man answered.

“And what makes you think that you have any idea what’s best for a child? Least of all for my son? Because let me tell you, Headmaster, I’ve heard a lot about this school of yours from Harry and I’m not impressed with what I hear. You’ve a Cerberus on the grounds, and that’s deadly enough. My son was attacked by a troll. Furthermore, you have teachers present who put their students to sleep at best and verbally abuse them at worst. What makes you think I’ll allow my child to remain in your medieval school after this Christmas?”

“I believe that a Muggle such as yourself should be very careful when it comes to making such threats,” the Headmaster said quietly. “You have no standing in our world, Mr. Marcone, and it would be quite easy to remove Harry from your hands. You don’t understand his importance to our world.”

“And you misunderstand his importance to me,” John said coldly. He stood, then, and Harry stood as well. “We’ll be going, then, as I can see there is nothing more for us to discuss here. I’ll let you know if Harry will finish out the year in your school.”

Harry handed the little one back to John and gestured for him to leave the office. As John did, Harry leaned forward quite deliberately and placed his hands on top of the Headmaster’s desk, staring down at him. “John might be content to just pull Harry out of this school, but let me warn you of something. If Harry comes back, and if you try anything else, John will bury your school in litigation. And I’ll just plain bury your school.”

As Harry left the office, he threw over his shoulder, “You have a nice day, now.”

As the three of them walked away from Hogwarts for their Christmas together, John murmured to Harry, “I think it’s time to go ahead with our Plan B. We can’t risk them trying to take him from us because I’ve no standing in the magical community.”

“You know I really want to come back for the rest of the school year, right?” Harry asked in a tiny voice.

“We’ll see if we can make it safe enough for you to do so,” John answered, and Harry knew then that John would never say no so long as their Plan B could actually be put into effect.

And with the CEO of Monoc Securities willing to discuss the matter with them, as well as Lara Raith entirely on board, it was just a matter of finding person number three. Harry was pretty sure they had that in the bag, once he made sure that he himself could act in this matter.

And then nobody in the magical world would be able to mess with John, not without risking a full-on war.

ooOOooOOoo

Albus Dumbledore scowled as soon as his office was empty. Who did they think they were? Harry was… Harry Potter was more important to the wizarding world than either of those two could imagine. Sure, the other one, the one who clearly was some sort of practicing magic user, had a lot of power to him, but he certainly wasn’t impressive enough to have a hope in taking on the Wizengamot.

All it would take was a word or two in the right ears, and little Harry Potter would be back under his control. It was for the best, really. He was even doing them a favor. It certainly wouldn’t do for them to get too attached to the little one, considering the duty Harry Potter had to their world.

This was the right thing to do, Albus was certain of it. With that thought firmly in mind, Albus found a fresh sheet of parchment and began preparing his letter to Cornelius. The Minister would be just as outraged as he was, and this John Marcone would find himself pulled before the Wizengamot in a trial before the next semester began.

He couldn’t be allowed to keep the Boy Who Lived.


	12. Chapter Eleven

As it turned out, Donar Vadderung had been more than willing to help them. In return for certain… considerations, of course. He’d given them his signature, and even found them a third since it seemed that Harry would not be able to sign. And the price he’d asked, well, no one could possibly consider it an unfair price. It was a simple request, really.

It made John wonder what Vadderung knew that he didn’t. Because for him to have asked for something so simple set John on edge. “I don’t like it,” he said once more as he paced his office.

“Neither do I,” Harry answered, as he’d done the past several times. “But we didn’t exactly have a choice. We needed his support, John. If they make a move, and you know they will, we have to be ready or we’ll lose him.”

“What right do they have-” John began, only to cut off when Harry shook his head.

“They have no right,” Harry said patiently. “But in their minds, they have every right. And their laws are different from those of the White Council. If they decide that they want him, they’ll do everything in their power to take him. They can wipe your mind, John, make you forget that he even existed. They could kill you with a single spell, and there’s not much I can do to stop them. This… it won’t protect us. It won’t protect him. But it will at least give us grounds to challenge them if they do try to take him. The Ministry of Magic has been a Signatory for many centuries. They’ll recognize your allies, and they won’t cross you lightly.”

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and tried to slow down his mind. “And if they do cross me?”

Harry’s answer, when it came, was fierce and violent. “Then we burn them.”

John’s eyes narrowed and he studied his partner. “Don’t you have laws against that?” he asked. He still didn’t know much about the laws which governed Harry’s life, but he knew enough. Knew that violating those laws would see Harry killed, and he wouldn’t let that happen, either.

Harry’s grin was just a little vicious. “I do,” he said. “But funny thing about those rules: They don’t necessarily apply when dealing with wizards of the Ministry. They’ll kill with magic faster than any wizard of the White Council would, and it’s happened many times in the past that a Council wizard driven to violating a law when engaged in combat with a Ministry wizard has been acquitted.”

“Harry, your Council doesn’t like you,” John pointed out.

“No, but they like the Ministry less.” Harry shrugged. “It might not even come to that, John. The Ministry would be stupid to push you too far, especially with the allies that you’ve got now.”

John forced himself to relax. Harry was right. The Ministry couldn’t possibly be so foolish as to actually challenge him on this. Not with his allies.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel that trouble was coming.

ooOOooOOoo

The next strike came at the end of Christmas break, just as they’d suspected it might. They’d known it was coming, and they’d been prepared.

As it stood, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. They’d been called to a custody hearing because the guardianship of the Boy Who Lived was apparently in question. Harry hated that, really. They could at least call Harry by his name, and not by that ridiculous title.

He’d known that the Ministry wizards were planning something. He also knew that John was nervous about what was to come, and so Harry had decided not to leave anything to chance. He’d done something he’d never wanted to do again, and he’d asked for help. It was the opposite of his normal brand of luck that his Godmother was too thrilled that he’d actually managed to find a family and too furious at the threat to that family to call in any of his old debts to her. She would keep little Harry safe if the worst should come to pass.

He might be a dog until Harry could get to him, but at least he’d be safe.

It was the eve of the court hearing, which would take place the day before Harry returned to Hogwarts, and Harry and John were in their hotel room, with little Harry curled up on the floor with Mouse. John had dropped off to sleep, saying that he wanted to be very well rested for what was to come, and Harry couldn’t blame him. Harry himself was still awake, and reading quietly. He just hoped that their new circumstances would be enough to keep their little lightning bolt safely with them.

“Uncle Harry?” the little one in question asked, and climbed up onto his lap, displacing the book entirely.

“What’s up, squirt?” Harry asked, and didn’t bother to bookmark the book in question. He hadn’t really been reading it, it had been more of a distraction. He’d read it dozens of times before, anyway.

“They aren’t going to take me away from you and Daddy, are they?” he asked, his big green eyes watering a bit behind his glasses.

Harry’s heart broke. “No, sweetheart, they’re not gonna take you away. Your daddy and I have a plan, and even if we somehow do lose the hearing, they won’t get their hands on you.”

He fought back a frown. He hadn’t told anyone about the backup plan. The fewer people that knew about Lea, the less that could go wrong. Not even John knew that there was a secondary plan in place, because there were wizards in the Ministry who wouldn’t hesitate to pluck that knowledge right from his head. But still, little Harry should at least know who he was supposed to go with. But he’d given Lea the password that Harry had been taught to respond to, so hopefully that would go well if it came to that.

“But will I ever see you again if they do take me away?” Harry asked, and squirmed around until he was nestled with his back against Harry’s chest.

“They will never take you away,” Harry answered quietly, calmly, resolutely. They would never take him away, that much was certain. If they were found unfit to care for the little one, Leanansidhe would step in and the wizarding world would never see him again because the Ministry wizards weren’t so good about dealing with the Nevernever. By not so good, Harry meant that they tended to close their eyes and pretend like it didn’t exist. But it didn’t matter, because there was no way in hell that they were going to let things progress that far.

Harry got the little one settled into his bed, turned out the lights, and curled up behind John. “You did well with him,” John murmured sleepily, and Harry smiled.

“Promise me that I didn’t just lie to him,” Harry asked, even as he curled his arms around John’s waist.

“You didn’t just lie to him,” John answered immediately, no hesitation or uncertainty in his voice. “This community isn’t stupid enough to antagonize us.”

“Especially not with-”

“Precisely,” John interrupted. “Now stop worrying and get some sleep. We’ll need to be well-rested for tomorrow.”

Harry closed his eyes and tried his hardest to follow John’s orders. There was still another uncertainty in all of this mess. If everything did go south, south-er than he’d planned for, what would happen with the White Council? He hadn’t had much contact with them since he’d started working with John, and they hadn’t exactly liked him before that. If they wanted, if Harry was forced to defend them with magic tomorrow, they could make life very difficult for Harry. They could kill him. Despite his flippant remarks to John earlier, Harry wasn’t entirely certain that they wouldn’t take the opportunity to do so.

“You’re not sleeping,” John muttered.

Harry chuckled softly, whispered, “My apologies, oh great and powerful Lord of Chicago.” He closed his eyes, then, and legitimately tried to fall asleep.

This time, he succeeded.

ooOOooOOoo

John was quite confident as he settled into his seat in the room where their custody hearing would take place. He and Harry were in the front row of the courtroom, along with a redheaded couple that looked...shabby, but kind, and a sleek and sophisticated couple that looked rather likely to tear John’s throat out should they get the chance. John knew people well enough to know that each couple was dangerous in its own way.

The beginnings moved much like any other court proceeding that John had ever been to, albeit a bit more magical with more words he didn’t quite understand, and then the old man stood up from his seat on the judge’s panel. Dumbledore said calmly, “As he has no ties to the wizarding world save through that of Harry Potter, the court moves that John Marcone immediately lose custody of the child until a decision can be reached.”

“And I would recommend that you consider that as a Signatory of the Accords, any act such as taking my son from me will be treated with extreme prejudice,” John threw out in response, not even bothering to stand up.

A murmur went up throughout the courtroom, and John heard the man from the sophisticated couple announce, “The Malfoy family will withdraw their petition.”

A wise man. John wasn’t above declaring war on idiots who tried to take his child away from him.

“You aren’t a Signatory,” Dumbledore said flatly. “It takes longer than a month to find three organizations willing to co-sign for you.”

“Of course it does. It’s actually something I’ve been working on for quite a while, since I first learned of magic and it’s place in my city. I’ve been named Baron of Chicago. My co-signatories are Donar Vadderung of Monoc Securities, Lara Raith of the White Court, and the Merlin of the White Council.” John’s smile once more bared all of his teeth as he asked, in as polite a tone as he could manage, “So did you really want to go up against them to take my child from me?”

Dumbledore blanched, then cleared his throat and attempted to recover. “Clearly the Wizengamot was mistaken when we believed you had no ties to our community as a whole. The Wizengamot is satisfied with your guardianship of Harry Potter.”

John’s smile softened and he said, “Excellent. I’m so glad that we can all be mature adults about this. Harry will see you tomorrow once school begins,” he offered.

John stood, then, and left a completely silent courtroom with Gard and Hendricks bringing up the rear and Harry the elder at his side. Harry the younger pattered between the four adults, Mouse making happy puppy noises as his escort.


	13. Chapter Twelve

As it turned out, the Ministry was so eager to make friends with the newest Signatory of the Accords that they sent a formal note of apology, as well as a small token of their appreciation to John. The apology swore that there would be no more attempts to remove Harry Potter from his obviously more than adequate care, and the gift was priceless, or so Harry assured him. Basilisk venom was incredibly rare, and had uses in dozens of impressive potions.

John didn’t care about the gift and was certain that Harry would know how to use it appropriately. The apology, however, was worth more than anything to him. He had his lawyers make copies of the document and secured them in several different places, just in case the Ministry ever decided to go back on their word.

The apology, unfortunately, turned out to be the best news the Harry and John would receive while their little lightning bolt was at Hogwarts for the end of his first year. It wasn’t that they received bad news, no, on the contrary, they received no news at all from the school. Oh, Harry still sent them letters, but they were almost entirely free of any information.

John was very unamused, especially when he received his third letter in a row stating that everything was just fine and that Ron and Hermione were helping to make sure that Harry did all of his homework.

_March 3rd_

_Dear Dad and Uncle Harry,_

_School is going great. The Professors have all been really nice, except for Professor Snape who never is. I won my last Quidditch game. We’re going to be playing for the House Cup! Isn’t that cool?_

_Ron and Hermione are keeping me company and helping me to finish up all of my homework. As the end of the year approaches, our teachers assign us more and more of it. I think they get a kick out of it or something. I tell you, I’d be lost without Hermione! She’s a lifesaver. Great at organizing, and at finding information._

_I’m looking forward to the end of the school year, and to seeing you both again! All my love to Mouse and to the two of you!_

_Love,_   
_Harry_

“Do you think that he’s being forced to write these letters?” John asked, as he and Harry stared in consternation at the entirely uninformative letter. It wasn’t just the lack of information that bothered him, it was the fact that it was almost the exact same letter that they’d already received twice over. The fact that it was only the third letter they’d received in as many months was also concerning, considering how many letters Harry’d sent before the break.

“I think that Dumbledore realized that you weren’t a man to be trifled with when you signed onto the Accords for the sole purpose of keeping Harry from him,” Harry answered after a few moments of silence. “I can’t imagine that he would be stupid enough to cross you twice in a row.”

“I can’t imagine that anyone would be stupid enough to cross him the first time,” Bob pointed out. “No offense, boss, but you picked a really scary guy to have a fling with.”

John snorted. “If we’re going to call a five year relationship a fling, I suppose you have a point.” He ignored the fact that five years was drop in the bucket for a wizard and that their relationship could probably be considered a fling. Technically.

He picked the letter up and placed it into the same file he’d kept all the others in. It really wasn’t even worth keeping, but if it did turn out that Harry was being forced to write such generic letters than he wanted there to be at least some evidence of the fact. Not that there was much they could do at the moment.

“We could go visit the school,” Harry suggested, his frown pretty severe as well. “I mean, I think that they have to let a child’s parents in to see them.”

“What good would it do? If he isn’t being forced to write these letters, there’s nothing we can do, no matter how much I don’t like that he’s keeping things from us,” John muttered. He rubbed at his forehead, hoping to dislodge the tension headache forming there rapidly.

He just wished that Harry would write them a real letter with some substance before he lost his goddamned mind. Was that really so much to ask?

ooOOooOOoo

John was officially forever and always going to remember that no news was good news. Because after five or so months of no news, what they were receiving now wasn’t good news, and he was terrified.

He and Harry had received a letter informing them that their presence was required at Hogwarts because Harry had been in an accident of some form. The Headmaster’s letter had been short, to the point, and had included something called a Portkey that had whisked them to the school’s hospital wing, where they were sitting by Harry’s bedside and waiting for anything resembling news.

The little one looked so tiny on the pristine white bed, his lightning bolt scar bandaged and his eyes closed peacefully. He looked so fragile.

“What happened?” John asked the Headmaster through gritted teeth. “Because somebody told me this school was safe, and so far it seems like it’s the exact opposite.” He didn’t blame Harry of course for that. His wizard couldn’t know everything, especially not about a group of wizards so very different from the White Council.

“The school is safe,” the Headmaster answered wearily, and he sounded so sad that John almost felt sorry for upsetting him.

And then John remembered that this asshole had tried to take his son away, and oh, look. There went his pity. “Really.”

“Yes, really. It was my fault, really. I didn’t notice... one of our teachers was possessed by somebody that I doubt you’ve heard of. He’s since been dealt with, but I’m afraid he gave Harry quite the fright.” The Headmaster shook his head in sympathy and added, “But Harry performed a great deed tonight, keeping the Sorcerer’s Stone safe from Voldemort.”

ooOOooOOoo

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You had the Sorcerer’s Stone in a school? Are you out of your mind?” he snarled. The stone was the most wanted piece of rock in any realm. With the ability to create the Elixir of Life, and the ability to make gold, it was invaluable. Any criminal, ranging from the petty to the murderous, would be after it had they known it was at a school.

“It was the last place that anyone should have thought to look for it!” the old man answered defensively. “It was perfectly safe here!”

“Until somebody tried to take it,” came the sudden, choked whisper from the bed. Their little one was awake, and he was crying. “Daddy, he touched me and he burned,” little Harry whispered through his tears.

John immediately scooped Harry into his arms and began to soothe him softly.

“We’re going to take him home,” Harry said flatly. This wasn’t even up for debate. “And I don’t think he’ll be coming back next year.”

“You can’t do that! Dearest Harry still hasn’t had the chance to say goodbye to his friends! And if you withdraw him from the school, well, I can’t imagine what the Wizengamot might try to do. It would be a disaster,” Dumbledore said with a frown that didn’t come close to fooling Harry. He saw the threatening glint in the old man’s eyes.

“And I thought we’d established that it was a really bad idea to threaten me,” John snarled, and Harry was a little sorry that he didn’t get to do the threatening. “Besides, your Ministry has already sworn to leave Harry in my custody.”

Harry grinned. “And did you really want to tell the world that you were hiding something like the Sorcerer’s Stone in a school? People would go mad, Dumbledore. They’d have your head for hiding something like that around children.”

Harry had the joy of watching Dumbledore pale until he almost resembled a ghost. Obviously, he knew that he shouldn’t have had the stone at Hogwarts. “Then I suppose Harry can go home with you,” the old man whispered. “But I beg of you, don’t remove Harry from the school. He’s been doing so well here. And I swear, he’ll be safe here next year.”

John hummed in consideration. “We’ll see what Harry wants,” he said finally. John stood, then, and hefted little Harry into his arms. “Now. You’re going to make us another of those Porkey things, and Harry, Harry and I are going to go home.”

Dumbledore swallowed, looked down and away, and nodded. He waved his wand over a cup he grabbed from off of the mediwitch’s table, and murmured something that Harry couldn’t quite catch.

“I do hope that you change your mind,” the old man murmured, just before handing the portkey off to Harry and John. The school’s medical wing whirled away, and Harry hoped that would be the last they ever saw of it.

Somehow, he knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to know that I had quite the internal debate over whether to call it the Sorcerer’s Stone or the Philosopher’s Stone. In the end, I went with what I’d read as a little girl.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Of all of the arguments John thought he would be having, this was not one of them. Harry had only just woken up after his tearful confession the night before in the Hogwarts infirmary, and he’d thought the child would be glad to be home. Why wouldn’t he be? The school had clearly been awful, and John had figured that Harry would prefer to never set foot in the school again. Ideally, Harry would have woken up, they would have all shared a nice breakfast, and John would have been able to go to work secure in the knowledge that his son was safe at home with his lover. Instead, he got this.

“I can’t believe you pulled me out of school!” Harry was raging. He picked up what was close at hand, in this case a cup, and flung it at John’s head. He missed, because John was smart enough to duck, but still. “I want to go back!”

“No. You’re not going back until next year at the earliest.” That wasn’t even up for debate, especially not now. They’d already pulled him for the year. They weren’t going to take him back now, even if they couldn’t force him to withdraw entirely. “Calm down, Harry, and eat your breakfast like a civilized child.” He stood up and approached the boy, although he was admittedly uncertain as to how he was going to deal with this mess.

“I’m not a child!” Harry howled. “I want to go back to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione! We needed to find out whether it was Hermione or me at the top of the class! This isn’t fair!”

Harry, the elder, snickered into his cup of coffee. John shot him a dirty look, and the bastard just laughed louder. When Harry, the younger, made to fling something else, however, that appeared to be the wizard’s limit.

Harry picked up another thing to throw, this time a plate, and when he launched it at John Harry the elder snapped out a set of words in that fake latin he adored so much and a barrier appeared between John and Harry and the little one. Upon a moment of closer examination, the barrier actually surrounded the little one rather than simply separating him from them.

“What did you do?” Harry shouted, and pounded his hands against the barrier. His young face was turning red in a combination of temper and frustration. John was almost certain that he’d never seen his child so upset about something, and that included the time Molly had almost run over Mouse with a golf cart.

“You’re acting like a toddler, throwing things and stamping your feet until you get your way,” Harry answered cheerfully, and now it was John’s turn to snort with laughter. “So, until you remember that you aren’t a toddler, but you are still our child, you’ll stay in there.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled, his face went even redder, and the little one shouted, “It isn’t like you’re my real parents anyway! I don’t need to listen to you! Why don’t you just go back to running your criminal empire, anyway?”

Every word was like a dagger in John’s heart. He crumpled, his knees giving out from under him. Harry didn’t really think like that, did he? He’d done everything he could to give him a good, decent home life. He knew that he didn’t always have time to be home with Harry, but he’d tried so hard. And he did everything he could to keep his work away from his home.

He knew that his work wasn’t exactly what most would consider to be moral, but he did his best, didn’t he? He didn’t involve children. He actively punished those who did involve children. And if it wasn’t him running the streets, well, somebody else would. Didn’t Harry understand that? Of course he didn’t. He was a child. How could he possibly understand something like the lesser of two evils?

“It’s okay, he doesn’t mean it, he’s just upset,” Harry was murmuring in his ear, and John realized that his wizard was holding him close, soothing him, rocking him just a little bit.

He clung to Harry and tried to make himself calm down. Harry was a child, and he was upset. He didn’t mean what he’d said. John knew that, he did. He just had to keep repeating that to himself over and over again.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry regretted the words the moment they left his lips. He didn’t mean that. He knew that his dad was the coolest dad ever, and that he’d taken him from a pretty bad situation. He didn’t really remember much about the Dursleys other than the cramped space that had been his cupboard, and the gnawing hunger in his stomach. His dad had taken him away from that, and Uncle Harry was awesome. He shouldn’t have said that.

Dad just wanted what was best for him, and Harry knew that Hogwarts wasn’t as safe as Dad had believed it to be. But he’d loved it there, loved the chance to learn about his biological parents even if he hadn’t found much information. Just being in the castle where they’d gone to school helped him to feel closer to them in a way that he hadn’t ever felt before. He hadn’t even realized he’d wanted it until he had it. And Dad wanted to take that away from him. That definitely wasn’t right.

But that didn’t mean that he should have said what he did to Dad! That wasn’t nice of him, and he’d really upset him when he hadn’t meant to do that at all. Not to mention that he really, really hadn’t meant it.

“I’m sorry!” he called desperately, and the barrier keeping him penned up dropped after Uncle Harry heard him say it. Harry darted out immediately and launched himself into his Dad’s arms, crying too. He didn’t know why he was crying, but he was, and now he couldn’t stop. He’d been so scared, and then so upset to be home when he just wanted to make sure that Ron was okay, and then to find out he might not get to go back... but still. He wasn’t a baby, and he should know better than to act like one.

“You know that your Uncle and I are just worried about you,” Dad was whispering to him, his voice a little bit hoarse and choked.

Harry felt like dirt for making his Dad cry. “I know,” Harry whispered back as his tears subsided. “But I don’t wanna stop going to school at Hogwarts! I really like it there, and I’m learning a lot! Please, Daddy, at least think about it?”

Dad sighed, Harry could feel it. “You can’t go back this year. I already withdrew you, and the Headmaster is going to owl us your final grades. But… we can discuss next year. If you do choose to go back, there will be a lot of changes to how this works. For one thing, you won’t be sending off anymore generic ‘everything’s fine’ letters.”

Harry giggled and said, “But everything was fine when I was writing the letters!”

He’d known that wasn’t going to fly for long, and he was amazed that they’d put up with it for an entire semester. He just really hadn’t wanted to tell them about trying to figure out what the Cerberus had been trying to protect and trying to figure out which teacher was trying to take it. He was still a little disappointed that it hadn’t been Professor Snape after the stone, actually.

“All right, my two troublemakers,” Uncle Harry said, and clapped them both on the shoulder. “Can we at least delay the rest of this conversation for breakfast? Because that rumbling you hear isn’t from a Cerberus, it’s from my stomach. And it’s begging for food.”

Dad chuckled, and Harry giggled again. If Dad could laugh and if Uncle Harry could make jokes, then Harry was pretty sure that everything would be okay. And if everything was okay, there was every chance that he’d get to go back to Hogwarts the next year!

But it was weird. Dad had implied that it was his choice about going back to Hogwarts next year. He would have thought for sure that he wouldn’t have been allowed back no matter what after the incident with the Stone. So… why was he getting a choice?

Because Harry knew that Hogwarts wasn’t safe, especially not now that he’d actually had a run-in with Voldemort himself. He still felt a little bit guilty about not telling his Dad about that, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? Besides, maybe if he knew about Voldemort, Dad wouldn’t let him go back to Hogwarts at all.

At least now he stood a chance of going back, even if he wasn’t sure why he was still being given that chance.

“Of course,” Dad said, drawing Harry’s attention back to breakfast, “I don’t know that we’ll be able to eat much of anything as somebody seems to have destroyed all of our tableware.”

Harry’s face flushed with embarrassment rather than temper. Oops.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

“He really wants to go back to the school,” Harry muttered much, much later at night, when he and John were alone in their bed. John was in his mellow, post-sex mood and Harry was absolutely not above taking advantage of that fact to discuss the matter at hand.

“I know,” John said with a small, unhappy groan. “Can’t we discuss this in the morning?” he added plaintively, and pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s neck. The kiss turned into a nibble, which turned into another kiss, and then John just left his head buried there for several moments.

Harry chuckled softly and answered, “In the morning you aren’t really going to want to talk about this.” He knew John well enough to know that when the morning came, John’s mind would already be made up and it would be very difficult to sway him one way or another. His lover was nothing if not stubborn.

“Probably not, no,” John murmured agreeably. He rolled, then, and pinned Harry underneath of him. “Are you sure I can’t distract you?” he asked in a low voice with just enough growl in it to make Harry shiver. “I’m told I can be quite distracting when I want to be.”

“Yeah, because I’ve told you that,” Harry agreed. He leaned up, kissed John once more, then relaxed into his pillows. “But no, you can’t distract me because we really do need to talk about this. And I think if you’d stop goofing off there, you’d absolutely agree.”

“I know,” John sighed. “Okay. What do you think?” He rested his forehead against Harry’s and looked so woeful at the thought of discussing this that Harry actually had to close his eyes. He couldn’t think with John... pouting on top of him.

That was probably his intention. Sneaky bastard. “I think that we should really consider what we agreed to when we signed that deal, and whether there’s a way to keep him safe when he goes back next year,” Harry answered after a moment of consideration. “Because let’s face it: we aren’t going to be able to convince him to stay away from that school, and we can’t keep him from going back.” He hated to admit it, but Harry apparently really wanted to go back to that school. Which meant that their options were pretty damn limited.

Now he knew why Vadderung had been so insistent that they agree to that particular point of the bargain they’d struck. It had been the only non-negotiable clause he’d put forth, that they not remove Harry from Hogwarts before Harry chose to leave Hogwarts. And they’d needed his support too badly to fight him on the issue. They’d been played, and played well.

“We have to find a way to protect him. I won’t have my child hurting like that,” John answered fiercely. “And I know that you feel the same. Don’t you remember the way he cried that night?”

Harry was pretty sure the sight of Harry crying with a grief that a child should never know was something he would never forget. He pushed the memory aside and opened his eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “I do. So let’s discuss what we can do to make things safe enough for him to go back.”

“I don’t want him to go back,” John said. “I want to try and convince him that he doesn’t want to go back, that he would be safer and happier here with us. I want to help him decide not to go back so that we don’t violate the terms of the deal.”

Harry sighed. “It’s more than just the deal, John, and I think you know that. He needs to learn about the kind of magic he was born with, and I can’t teach him that. Wizards of his kind are so... they’re more restricted than we are and yet they’re less restricted. There are so many spells, so many rules, so many things I don’t know about his kind. I can’t teach him everything that he needs, John. I wish that I could, but I really can’t.”

“We could find him another tutor,” John suggested, but sounded like he didn’t buy it even as he said it. “Okay, no, that won’t work,” he added with a sigh.

Harry wished, more than anything in that moment, that he did know enough about the types of magic that they taught at Hogwarts. Sure, he knew a fair bit of potion-crafting, but even his potions were different than the ones Harry had been taught, judging by the brief look Harry had taken of his textbooks. He could teach Harry everything there was to know about his own magic, but not about the magic of his people.

“He’s not going back without Mouse,” John said finally. “And I’d like to see if we can hire him an actual bodyguard to go with him. Perhaps an associate of Gard’s?”

As much as Harry hated the idea of becoming even more indebted to Monoc Securities, that wasn’t a terrible idea. Of course, whether or not the Headmaster would allow an armed guard into his school was a concern, and Harry was willing to bet that he wouldn’t. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

And as for Mouse, well, over the past year they’d witnessed Mouse perform a startling array of things. That included being struck by a car and turning around to rip off one of the car’s tires when somebody had tried to take out Harry in order to upset John. Mouse hadn’t even limped afterward. It was painfully clear that he was no ordinary dog, and Harry and John both knew that the dog would keep their little lightning bolt safe.

“What else do you think?” Harry asked tiredly.

John sighed. “As much as I hate the idea, I think maybe it’s time that Harry learn how to use a gun.”

ooOOooOOoo

Harry was enjoying his summer, particularly now that he was going to be going back to Hogwarts definitely. Headmaster Dumbledore had apparently not been pleased by the list of demands that Dad and Uncle Harry had presented, but he’d given in on two of the points in the interest of keeping the peace. Or so Harry had been told. Somehow he thought there was more to the story than that, but his parents almost never told him anything.

The point was that Harry was learning how to shoot a gun, and he was going to be taking both Mouse and Hedwig to school with him, and he was actually really excited.

“I don’t get why you’re so happy to go back to a school that’s so dangerous,” Molly was complaining from where she was perched on the fence near the far edge of his father’s property, watching as Harry practiced shooting tin cans off of rocks. It wasn’t how Dad preferred him to practice, considering that they weren’t at the shooting range and it probably wasn’t all that safe or legal, but Harry had fun with it.

And the cops never showed up to investigate the gunshots, so he guessed it was okay enough.

“I can’t explain it,” Harry offered, shrugging in silent apology when she shot him a dirty look.

“If you can’t explain it, squirt, then you must not really mean whatever it is,” Molly said with all the wiseness of the three extra years to her name.

Harry laughed, carefully put the safety on his gun, and settled next to her on the ground, back against the fence. “I feel... you know that Dad isn’t really my dad, right? He adopted me from what was a pretty rough situation when I was a lot younger.”

Molly nodded. “Yeah, I know. Dad was telling me to be super nice to you the first time you came over for that reason. You know, before you turned out to be a hellspawn incarnate,” she said teasingly.

Harry flicked a piece of grass at her. “When I’m over there, where my real parents went to school, going to the same classes they did with some of the same teachers, it almost feels like I could... like I could meet them or something some day. And I know that I can’t, and I know that I’ll probably never know all that much about them but I can’t help but want to be over there where I can at least feel like I’m closer to them.”

Molly chuckled softly, reached down, and ruffled Harry’s already messy hair. “Now that, squirt, sounds like a pretty good reason.” She then hopped off the fence and threw out, “So, let’s see how you do with some moving targets, yeah?” The cans that he’d already slain began to levitate and fly in random patterns through the air.

Harry grinned and stood slowly, brushing the dirt off of his pants. There was the possibility that Molly was the coolest out of all of his friends, even the ones he’d made at Hogwarts. He was going to miss her when he went back to school.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

The summer had gone far too quickly considering that John hadn’t even wanted to allow Harry to go back to school. But he hadn’t had a choice and fighting would have been futile, so now Harry was away at school for the second year in a row. The house had seemed far too quiet after he left the first time, and the phenomenon was repeated this second time. This time, Molly and his other Harry were trying to be as loud and obnoxious as they could in a misguided effort to make up for what the house now lacked. They’d tried the same thing last time, only they’d had Mouse to help them along. And now Mouse was no longer with them as well, though John couldn’t really be upset about that. Mouse would keep Harry safe, he was sure of that.

And the letters this year were at least coming fairly regularly, which John was quite glad about.

_Dear Dads,_

_School’s been good so far. We have this absolute twit of a Defense teacher, but according to the twins he should only last a year so I think we’ll survive. He tried to give me advice on managing my fame, but Mouse growled at him and he shut right up! It was really funny. Also, Mouse apparently hates it when I’m up in the air because he can’t get to me. He barked like crazy while I flew the other day. I might have to quit the Quidditch team if he doesn’t chill out, and I really don’t want to do that. Any advice?_

_Love you!_   
_-Harry_

“He called me Dad!” Harry said dazedly as he read over John’s shoulder.

John couldn’t help his smile. “He loves you, you know, and you’ve been here with us almost since the beginning. I think it’s about time.”

“You do, do you?” Harry asked and turned John’s head to kiss him on the lips. John didn’t exactly protest. Why would he? Kissing Harry was one of his favorite pastimes. “Maybe you ought to make an honest wizard out of me,” Harry suggested in a breathy tone.

“Not legal here,” John pointed out, “though I hear a rumor that might be changing.” It wasn’t as though he had anything to do with that potentially changing or anything, either. He certainly hadn’t mentioned a few things to a few friends or anything like that. He’d merely... bought a few meals, that was all. Sent off a few gifts. Nothing worth mentioning.

He could feel Harry stiffen from where he was wrapped around him. “Wait, really?” the wizard asked, and John was amused by the genuine surprise in his voice. He sounded pleased, as well, which meant that John had accomplished his goal. Harry had been rather depressed as well with Harry back at school, especially since his noise campaign was spectacularly ineffective.

“Really,” John confirmed with a small smile, and then Harry’s letter was being knocked off the desk and John was being shoved up onto it.

Their response to Harry they wrote out a few hours later, and it contained the advice that if Mouse didn’t like it when Harry did something, perhaps he shouldn’t continue to do it. But knowing how much Harry loved Quidditch, John knew that wasn’t going to work. Still, he had to try.

Whizzing around on broomsticks couldn’t possibly be a safe activity.

ooOOooOOoo

The letters continued regularly until they reached one that made both Harry and John rather unhappy to receive. It was the things that the letter didn’t say that were alarming, especially when John considered what the letter did say. And on top of that, it was several days late, although with the contents of the letter that wasn’t so surprising.

_Dear Dads,_

_Sorry I’m so late with this letter, but it totally wasn’t my fault! We had a Quidditch match, and well, I kinda maybe got my arm broken. And you remember that idiot of a Defense teacher I mentioned, right? Well, he tried to heal my arm and it didn’t really take. It did the opposite, and so I was boneless in my one arm for a day. But the bones are back now, so it’s all good!_

_Also, I was wondering how you might feel about me staying for the Christmas holidays? I’ll really miss you both, but I really do want to stay this year. I’d like to see what a Christmas is like here at Hogwarts! Let me know if I can stay as soon as you can, okay?_

_Mouse says hello, and also ‘Woof’!_

_Love you guys!_   
_-Harry_

John hated the idea of Harry staying at the school for the winter holidays. He’d been looking forward to seeing his son. Still, if that was what Harry wanted… and it wasn’t like anything too terrible had happened yet this year. Certainly nobody was trying to kill him or break into the school.

With reservations, John and Harry wrote back to their son.

_Dearest Harry,_

_While we aren’t exactly thrilled with the thought of you staying at Hogwarts over the winter, we both understand why you might want to. If it’s what you really want, we’re willing to let you stay for the holidays. We’ll send your gifts ahead to the school, although I’m not entirely sure of how to send one of them through owl post. That one might have to wait._

_Also, please do refrain from breaking any more of your limbs. I understand that, for a Quidditch injury, that one was rather mild. I would still rather not read about your injuries. Nor would I rather you hide them, before you decide to just not tell us next time._

_**Don’t listen to him, Harry. Breaking bones is a normal part of growing up. Not that you should go out and strive for broken bones, but one or two won’t hurt you. Unless it’s your head. Don’t break your head, Harry. --Harry** _

_Don’t listen to him. He’s being ridiculous. Please try to stay safe, and try to avoid that teacher of yours. I don’t like the sound of him._

_All our love,_   
_Your parents_

And so it was that John and Harry went on vacation for their first ever Christmas alone. During their stay at the cabin, Harry ‘accidentally’ blew out the power and trashed all of the electronics. While he would never admit to having done it on purpose, John was almost certain that he had. He spent a quiet, enjoyable Christmas with Harry, and hoped that their child wasn’t getting himself into more trouble than he had last year.

ooOOooOOoo

The rest of the letters they received from Harry over the course of the year were fairly routine. There was some sort of debacle with a duelling club that Harry had attempted to join, one of his friends had some sort of accident with a Potion over the Christmas break, and apparently the evil Defense teacher created some sort of hilarious-sounding Valentine’s insanity. On the whole, it seemed like the school year was going very well for Harry, and John began to relax a bit.

And then they got their last letter of the year from Harry the day before they were to pick him up from the airport. Owl post moved so slowly, they wouldn’t even have time to be really worried about it before they saw him again. Which had doubtlessly been the little brat’s plan all along.

_Hey Dads!_

_So, I don’t want to worry you or anything, but I may or may not have been bitten by a snake. The snake was going to eat Ginny, though, who is Ron’s little sister, and I couldn’t let that happen! So Mouse and Ron and I went after her, and Ron got separated, and Mouse and I totally took care of the snake! It actually may have been just a little bit dangerous, and the snake did bite me. But the Headmaster’s phoenix cried tears onto my arm, and totally healed it. Well, not totally, because there’s a scar._

_But the scar is... okay. So the scar looks pretty bad. But I totally wasn’t in any danger at all because Fawkes was right there. And maybe things would have been bad if he hadn’t been there, but he was and everything was fine. So please please don’t let this turn into a conversation about whether I can go back to Hogwarts or not, because I might cry. Because I still want to go back next year._

_I’ll see you guys soon, and I hope that you won’t make me stay home next year!_

_Love you both, and remember that I’m totally fine and there’s no need to panic!_

_-Harry_

John almost didn’t care if Harry was injured or not. He was going to kill him for keeping this from them until the very last minute. Once he made sure that he was okay, of course.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

The scar did look terrible.

It was, as a matter of fact, almost a quarter of the size of Harry’s arm. There was no way of hiding it, considering that it was the summer and long sleeves would be just a bit suspicious, so Harry didn’t make the mistake of trying. Both of his dads would notice it pretty much immediately, and trying to hide it would only make it seem more like he had something to hide. Which he didn’t.

As he hopped off the private jet he’d flown home in he asked Mouse nervously, “You aren’t going to tell them about the basilisk, are you?”

Mouse huffed at him and shot him a dirty look. The dog stalked ahead of Harry, tail down and ears low. Harry wasn’t sure, but he thought that maybe Mouse was angry with him.

He probably was. Okay, he definitely was. But Harry didn’t regret his duplicity. He loved Hogwarts! Okay, Snape was really mean, and Binns was boring as anything, and lots of dangerous things seemed to happen each year, but Harry felt like he was learning a lot there. And if Dad, either of them, knew that he’d used his gun to kill a basilisk... that probably wouldn’t go over very well.

At least he hadn’t tried to use that ridiculous sword. It had been awfully nice of Fawkes to bring the Sorting Hat down to help him, but what was he supposed to do with a sword? It wasn’t like he knew how to use it or anything. He supposed, had he been entirely unarmed, it would have been better than nothing. And it did serve a point in that the Headmaster believed that he’d killed the basilisk with the sword rather than the gun that he’d never technically authorized.

Harry just hoped that Fawkes wouldn’t tell him. If phoenixes could talk. Could they? He didn’t know. They seemed pretty intelligent, so maybe they could.

“Harry!” Dad shouted as he came into view.

Harry shrieked and laughed and most definitely did not flinch when he was hefted up into his Dad’s arms. Okay, maybe he did. But his Dad didn’t notice, or didn’t react if he did. Which was good, because Harry wasn’t sure he could explain.

He was passed off to Uncle Harry in short order and he relaxed a little. He hadn’t noticed the flinch. “I think I’m getting a bit big for this,” he protested, even as he flung his arms around his Uncle’s... his Dad’s.... whatever he wanted to call him... around Uncle Harry’s neck.

His protest was ignored and his arm was seized and Harry hid his face so that he wouldn’t have to watch his parents’ faces as they studied his scar. He could feel them both turning his arm this way and that, and he wasn’t looking forward to the inquisition that was bound to follow.

Eventually, Dad cleared his throat. “That must have been a very large snake,” Dad managed, his voice choked. “What kind did you say it was, again?”

“A magical one,” Harry answered as flippantly as he dared, his voice muffled by Uncle Harry’s neck. He wouldn’t look up because his parents could both spot a lie a mile away. Harry just wasn’t that good at telling tales.

“You do realize that if you don’t just tell us what kind of snake we’re talking about I’m just going to get either Bob or Sigrun to take a look,” Uncle Harry said, sounding amused.

Harry groaned. They’d out him for sure! But... “They can’t identify a magical snake from just one fang mark!” he protested, drawing back to stare the older wizard in the eye. When Uncle Harry looked away, Harry knew that he was right and didn’t bother not to smirk.

“That’s just from one fang?” Dad squawked. He likely wouldn’t admit to ever making such an undignified noise, would probably deny it until his dying day since mob bosses don’t squawk, but Harry was pretty sure that was the only way to classify the sound he made.

“I mean... yeah,” Harry whispered. The thing with the basilisk had been very dangerous. He knew that. He didn’t need to tell them about it only to have them reminding him of how dangerous it had been.

Uncle Harry was quiet for several minutes. And then, gravely, he asked, “You said that your friend’s younger sister was in danger?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered quickly. He left out that she’d been the one to let loose the basilisk in the first place. Uncle Harry and Dad didn’t need to know that.

“Where were your teachers?” Dad asked quietly.

“We were in a hurry! Ron and I did get the Defense teacher, but Lockhart was as useless as always!” Again, he left out the fact that Lockhart had tried to attack him and Ron, and that Harry had shot him, too. It hadn’t been fatal, and Harry wasn’t even in any trouble for that. Mostly because Lockhart couldn’t remember how he’d gotten the strange wound on his leg and none of the adult wizards actually recognized a bullet wound. Harry was pretty lucky in that regard.

He didn’t tell his Dad any of that because he actually wanted to go back to Hogwarts next year, after all. And what his parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right? He was staying silent for a very good reason. Hogwarts was fun, and it was also the only way to learn this type of magic.

Dad let out a disbelieving noise, but picked up Harry’s trunk and began to head towards the car. The inquisition, apparently, was over for the day.

“But let’s talk about the fact that you lied to us in your letters to us, and didn’t actually tell us anything that was going on,” Dad said in a disarmingly cheerful tone.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He hadn’t actually counted on that being an issue. He supposed he should have known better than to think he would get away with lying for a whole year. He offered his Dad a cute smile, but the scowl he got in return said that he was in a lot of trouble.

Oops.

ooOOooOOoo

The next few days were spent in silent misery. He was grounded, and that meant that all of the toys were stripped from his room where he spent the majority of the next week. He wasn’t allowed to roam the grounds with Molly, wasn’t allowed to hang out in the family room watching television, wasn’t allowed to do anything fun at all except for studying.

Which wasn’t fun.

But it was worth it. It was so very worth it, because his parents still didn’t know quite how bad things had been. He would be able to go back to Hogwarts and everything would be just fine next year. There would be no more crazy adventures. He would have a normal school year, and he wouldn’t have to lie to his parents again and he wouldn’t have to repeat this mind-numbing week of boredom.

Unfortunately, despite his desire to return to Hogwarts and the fact that he genuinely believed that the bad times were well worth all the good, he wasn’t actually as okay with things as he’d thought he was. He was lucky that he knew basic silencing spells because he knew that he was screaming in his sleep. Mouse woke him every time that he didn’t wake himself.

He understood that dreams were how the mind worked through bad things, but the options his mind gave him seemed endless. He didn’t make it to Ginny in time and Tom Riddle came back to life. He looked the basilisk in the eye and turned to stone and had to watch as Ginny died. Fawkes wasn’t there and he died writhing in agony on the basilisk’s fang. He managed to kill the basilisk, but not before it ate Ginny. He killed the basilisk but didn’t realize that Tom was in control of Ginny and let him out that way.

A week after his grounding was over and his daylight life had gone back to normal, his dreams found an entirely new way to torment him. He’d thought his mind had exhausted all possible alternate scenarios, but apparently not. He woke up gasping for breath after having been crushed slowly to death by the cave-in Lockhart had caused, with Tom Riddle’s maniacal laughter being the last thing he heard.

He sat up, buried his head in his hands, and began to cry softly. He hadn’t slept the night through since the summer began, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Dad and Uncle Harry were bound to notice, if they hadn’t already.

As he cried, he felt Mouse hop off the bed and heard him pad from the room. Even his dog was deserting him. Harry cried harder.

ooOOooOOoo

John woke to the sound of Mouse pawing at his door. He blearily opened his eyes, disengaged from Harry who was sleeping like a log, and walked to the door. When he opened it, Mouse gently gripped his wrist with his teeth and tugged in a clear command.

Grateful that he was wearing pants, John followed and wondered where they were headed. He didn’t have to wonder for long as they quickly reached Harry’s dore. He opened the door, and the minute he did he could hear his son sobbing, great, heartrending sobs that made John cringe to hear. He made his way into the room where Harry was curled into a tiny ball on his bed, sobbing helplessly.

John closed his eyes and forced his temper down. He hated that school and what it was doing to Harry, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to pick up his son, settle him into his lap, and do his best to try and calm him down. Mostly he just rocked back and forth and crooned nonsense, until it sank in that he was there and that he wasn’t going anywhere and that Harry was definitely safe. Eventually, near dawn, after the little one dropped off to sleep, Harry joined him in bed.

“This school is killing him,” John said flatly.

“I know,” Harry agreed quietly. “Are we going to try to convince him not to go next year, then?”

John let out a low growl. “I don’t know,” he snarled, and gentled his tone when his son whimpered. “I think that no matter what happens, we need another meeting with Dumbledore. And he’d better have some good answers this time.”


	18. Chapter Seventeen

As it happened, the Headmaster anticipated their request for a meeting and the reason for it. They met only a few days after Harry’s birthday party, and the Headmaster wasn’t alone when he arrived for the meeting. With him was a thin, worn looking man with tired eyes and a sad smile.

“I understand that you have some reservations about sending Harry back to Hogwarts this year,” Dumbledore began. “I thought that I would alleviate at least some of those reservations by introducing you to Professor Remus Lupin, who will be teaching Defense this year.”

John nodded once. “That’s something, I suppose,” he said coolly. “It’s good to meet you, Professor. I hope that you’ll prove to be more competent than the past two. I certainly hope that you don’t try to kill my son.”

“I assure you, I have no intention of hurting Harry,” the man said quietly. “I was… I was friends with his parents in school. It’s…” He stopped, then, and cleared his throat. “I’m glad that he has someone like you looking after him. His parents would approve, I think, from the things I’ve heard.” Lupin didn’t elaborate on what he’d heard, but John could imagine.

He hadn’t exactly been making many friends among the Ministry wizards. That was fine. They didn’t need to like him, they just needed to keep his child safe. “And are there any other security concerns that I should be aware of this year? Any… petrifications, perhaps?”

Dumbledore at least had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “It’s hardly my fault that your son didn’t tell you about the incidents,” he said defensively.

“No, but it is your fault that you kept the school open with a monster attacking the students,” Harry pointed out from where he stood behind John.

“I can assure you, the monster was dealt with.” Dumbledore offered them both a smile.

“Yeah, my son handled it for you,” John said flatly. “I have to say, I’m entirely unimpressed by the way you handle the security of your school. It seems like every year there’s a disaster.”

“Well, then you should be pleased that this year we’ll have some… additional security measures in place.”

John frowned. “Why?” he asked, suspicious. If the fact that he’d been keeping something as dangerous as the Sorcerer’s Stone within Hogwarts hadn’t been enough for him to hire extra guards, what would?

“There’s been a… a prison break, and there is reason to believe that the convict who escaped might choose to come to Hogwarts. For what reason, we really couldn’t say. But the Ministry will be providing extra security to the school until such time as Black is apprehended once more.”

John scowled. He didn’t like it. In fact, he hated it. The fact remained that his hands were tied. Harry would go back to Hogwarts until such time as he asked to stop. That was the deal that he’d signed, as much as he hated it. He could kill Vadderung for putting them in this situation. Had he known how dangerous Hogwarts would be for Harry? Probably, otherwise why else would he have made them make the promise in the first place? Because of that horrible deal there was nothing he could do, short of sending an armed bodyguard to the school with Harry.

Speaking of… “I don’t suppose you’ll reconsider allowing Harry to have a guard on the grounds, would you?” he asked, knowing it was a long shot.

Dumbledore was already shaking his head before John could even finish asking the question. “I’m sorry, but if we allowed it for one student, we would have to allow it for all of them, and there’s just no way that I can allow that many extra people onto the grounds.” The Headmaster hesitated, then asked, “Will we be seeing Harry on the train this year?”

“He’ll be there,” John confirmed reluctantly.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry hesitated at the entrance to the younger Harry’s bedroom. He was sitting on his bed, reading one of his textbooks quietly, with Mouse curled up next to him. He was the picture of peaceful studiousness. Harry was almost reluctant to disturb him.

Still… he cleared his throat, and when Harry looked up, Harry asked, “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” Harry said cheerfully.

There was only a week or so until Harry returned to Hogwarts, and Harry needed to talk to him. “I wanted to talk to you about Hogwarts,” he began as he settled onto the bed next to Harry.

Harry’s young face immediately closed off. “What about it?” he asked warily.

“Let’s talk, for one thing, about why you like it there so much. What is it about that school that makes you want to risk going back there each year, knowing how dangerous it’s been for you?” Harry asked quietly.

Little Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I… it’s hard to explain, really,” he said after a moment of consideration. “It’s like… it’s like going home, after a long time being away. Walking through the doors after a summer away is like… it’s like finally being with people who are mostly just like me, and all of them have dealt with the same sorts of accidental magic that I did growing up and… it isn’t that I don’t love you and Dad, it’s just that… they’re like me, there. I… I don’t fit in, not really, but I feel like I stand out less. And it’s nice to see kids other than the Carpenters, too, not that I don’t love them.”

Harry nodded slowly. He could sort of understand it. “So it’s the magic that I can’t hope to teach you because I don’t know it, and the fact that you have friends there.”

“It isn’t just that I have friends, though!” Harry protested. “It’s even people like Malfoy, who I can’t stand, but he’s there to pick on me. He’s… he’s like my rival, and I’ve never had that before! I’ve never been around kids who don’t like me. It’s weird, to think that’s part of what I like about Hogwarts, but it’s true! It’s also playing on the Quidditch team, and competing with Hermione to get top marks in Gryffindor, and all of that stuff. It’s stuff I never had growing up because Dad was too paranoid to let me be in school with other kids!”

“You know that John has good reasons for that,” Harry defended. “But… I can see your points. I just… Harry, it took almost a month for you to start sleeping the night through. Your father and I are really worried about you.”

“Why don’t you just make me stay home, then?” Harry asked, confused. “If you think it’s such a bad idea, why not keep me here at home?”

“We can’t,” John said quietly from the doorway. “Harry and I agreed to let you continue at Hogwarts until you decide to stop attending. It’s the deal that we made to get me signed into the Accords so quickly so that I wouldn’t lose custody of you.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to go back this year,” he said quietly, finally. “I’ve already said that.”

“We know,” Harry answered, and slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I’m not a hundred percent sure that I understand completely, but we know that you’re going back this year. At least it should be safer this time, right?”

John let out a small laugh and came to join them. “I don’t see how it could be more dangerous,” he said quietly.

The three of them, and Mouse, sat there for a long time that night.

ooOOooOOoo

The last week flew by, and almost before John knew it, it was time for Harry to go back to that awful school. He hated this, sending his child off into danger. Children were meant to be safe and happy and innocent, and not meant to be killing snakes bigger than he was. Because despite what Harry thought, Sigrun had been more than willing to explain to them both exactly what a basilisk was and what it had likely done to Harry before he’d been healed. And what would have happened without Fawkes there.

As they watched the Hogwarts Express depart, Harry murmured, “He’s a bright kid. Give it another year, maybe two, and he’ll realize that the school is more dangerous than it is fun. And maybe being accepted by others isn’t really worth his own life. And by then, we’ll have more than satisfied our obligation to allow him to go to the school as Mr. Vadderung requested of us. He won’t be able to say we forced him out of the school early.”

John’s lips curled into a snarl. He was starting to reach a point where he no longer cared whether he would be breaking his word if he forced Harry out of that school. It was killing his son slowly, and what was the point of having custody of Harry if he was dead? Vadderung’s assistance had been invaluable in setting him up as a Freeholding Lord, but if it would kill his child…

It wasn’t worth it. And if the deal that he’d made did result in his son’s death, John would never forgive himself. Ever. And he’d tear Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Monoc Securities to the ground for taking his son from him.

Aloud, all he said was, “I sincerely hope that you’re right.”

The two left the station, followed by the crazed eyes of Sirius Black from the ‘wanted’ posters posted around the platform.

ooOOooOOoo

The letters, this year, were worse than the previous year’s. Harry didn’t lie to them, but John couldn’t shake the feeling that his son wasn’t telling them everything again. On top of that, he was furious about the fact that the Headmaster had deliberately misled him. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if the man had a truthful bone in his body. The extra security he’d promised would be at the school seemed to be more dangerous than the criminal himself.

_Dear Dads,_

_So, the guards around the school apparently suck out all of your happiness. I passed out the first time I was around one on the train ride to the school. It was pretty rough. But I’m okay! Our defense teacher was great, even if he doesn’t look like much. He scared the things off, apparently, and gave me some chocolate to stave off the rest of the depression. It worked, too. See? I always told you that chocolate has its medical benefits._

_Anyway, try not to worry about me! The guards are posted on the borders of the school only, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. They just wanted to make sure that Sirius Black hadn’t somehow snuck onto the train, that’s all. So it’ll all be fine._

_I have to go to breakfast now before Ron eats it all. I’ll write again soon! Love you both!_

_-Harry_

This was not followed by a letter for quite a long time, despite the fact that John and Harry sent several letters to their son. Eventually, a month later, they got the next one. And John was even less happy about this one.

_Dear Dads,_

_I passed out at a Quidditch game this time. My broom didn’t survive the experience. But I’m fine, so don’t worry so much! Mouse has added his pawprint of approval to let you know that I’m okay, and that everything here is fine._

_So listen, I’m gonna stay at Hogwarts this Christmas again, okay? Professor Lupin is teaching me about the Patronus charm which will help me to handle the Dementors guarding the school. I don’t really want to, but I think that this is more important than coming home. I know that you both will understand._

_I’m sorry for not writing for so long, but school’s been really busy this year. I’ll try to write again sooner, but I wouldn’t expect one until Christmas break at least. I love you both so much! I miss you!_

_Love,_   
_Harry_

As Harry had said, the next letter didn’t come until Christmas. It was short, too, and only spoke of his new broom that everyone thought had been hexed. They took it from him, and Harry was really upset about that. He also mentioned the ongoing feud between Scabbers, Ron’s pet, and Crookshanks, Hermione’s pet. After that, the letters were short and to the point and entirely uninformative, except for the one where Harry told them that he’d finally cast a solid Patronus but it had just been against some Slytherins playing a prank.

Their final letter from Harry came only a day before they were to pick him up from the airport, which meant that he’d been out of school for almost three days by the time they received it. John was getting a little sick of these last minute surprises. The first one hadn’t held anything good, and he was almost certain that this one didn’t either.

_Dads,_

_I’m not gonna write much here. I just wanted to let you know that Mouse and I made friends with the stray dog from Hogsmeade, and Snuffles is going to be coming home with me. I’ll tell you more about it once we get home, okay? Home, I mean, not the airport this time. Seriously. We’ll talk about it at home._

_I love you both, and I know that you’ll be just as happy to have Snuffles with us as I am._

_Love you,_   
_Harry._

John couldn’t be sure, but he was relatively sure that ‘stray’ and ‘Snuffles’ were codes for something. He just didn’t know what, but he had the feeling that it wouldn’t be anything good.

He swore, if Harry had at any point almost died again this year, heads were going to roll.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Snuffles whined nervously as they stepped off the plane. His ears were back, his tail was down, and his fur stood on edge. He was the picture of nervousness, at least until Mouse chuffed at him and knocked into him with his shoulder, which settled the mangy black beast down. Harry, too, was nervous. But he knew that his Dads would give him a chance to explain. He knew it.

Of course, Dad looked at poor Snuffles with a painful expression of disdain. “You really did mean a stray dog,” he muttered in disbelief before shaking his head. “At least tell me it doesn’t have fleas.”

Snuffles took offense to this and growled, and Harry got to watch both his of parents jump. “Maybe he’s a dog like Mouse?” Uncle Harry suggested, although he, too, was eyeing the dog rather dubiously.

“What did I say about discussing this at the airport?” Harry asked sweetly, hoping against hope that there were no eager Aurors or anything else on American soil to re-arrest his godfather. That would suck, to have gotten Sirius all the way here only to have him be caught by an Auror. With any luck, the Americans wouldn’t be so eager to capture his godfather. He hoped. He’d never really spent much time in wizarding America, not with Ministry wizards anyway.

Could he even call them that if they weren’t British?

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t what he should be focusing on. He should be trying to keep his godfather calm during the awkwardly silent car ride that followed, because both of his parents were clearly studying the mangy dog that rode silently beside Harry with his head down and ears back. Sirius must be terrified, and Harry could understand that. He was going to give up his secret to two very powerful men, and hope that they would shelter him.

But Harry had faith in his parents. He knew that they wouldn’t let Sirius be persecuted for something he hadn’t done, and unlike the Aurors and the Ministry of Magic, they would listen to what he had to say before condemning Sirius. They just had to.

His parents, despite all of their faults, were good people. Or… as good as they could be, considering his Dad’s line of work.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry studied the black dog in the backseat. It was huge, and yes, it looked suspiciously like a stray. It was underfed, it’s fur was matted, and it had the posture of a beaten and broken dog. But Harry was clinging to him, arms curled tightly around the dog, and the dog wasn’t exactly protesting. In fact, Harry could see the dog leaning into his son’s hold. Which meant that it wasn’t what it looked like, because Grims were notoriously not cuddly.

Which meant that the dog was a mystery. It could be a stray, definitely. Stray dogs often understood when they’d been rescued, and that could certainly be the case here. But something about that disagreed with Harry. For one thing, he’d never seen a stray dog that looked so much like a Grim in his life. For another, the dog had a strange feel to him in general, much like the feelings Harry got when he was around Ministry wizards.

Could Ministry wizards turn into animals? He’d never heard of their being able to, and yet… maybe… No. The thought was ridiculous. It wasn’t exactly a common ability, after all, and if his son was dealing with something that could… that meant that whatever was leaning against his son was incredibly powerful, and he really hoped that it wasn’t dangerous.

Just in case, however, he began considering what sorts of spells he would need to get that thing away from his son.

John parked the car and they made their way into the house, and as soon as they were in the house Harry asked urgently, “Would we know if anybody were... I don’t know, watching the house? Anybody magical, I mean.”

Because that wasn’t a suspicious question at all, right?

Harry couldn’t suppress a small snort. “Kid, there are so many wards on this place that I’d know if anybody were even thinking of turning their gaze on this house. There’s no magic done on this property or directed towards it that I don’t sense. It’s been one of Molly’s projects this year to try and get past them, and she hasn’t managed it yet. And you know how sneaky she is.”

“Okay. I think it’s time, then, to explain to you about... about Snuffles.” Their son was flushing, and Harry couldn’t tell if that was because he was thinking of Molly or because he was about to be caught in a lie. Either way it was something that deserved being made fun of, just not right at the moment, so he filed it away for later reference and waited patiently and hoped that he didn’t have to hurt the thing beside his son.

John, beside him, was tense with anticipation, his hand already creeping towards his gun. Harry supposed he couldn’t blame him, considering the tales that Harry came home with every year.

ooOOooOOoo

Sirius didn’t want to do this. He was tired and he was hungry and he was frightened. Harry had assured him, had promised him that this wouldn’t go badly. But these two men before him were terrifying, and he was sure that Harry didn’t even see it. Not that he wanted his godson to be terrified of his parents, but still. They were arguably more frightening than the Dementors in their own ways.

The one with the silver hair and the money-green eyes that were so like Harry’s had an air of quiet menace to him. He looked like he could break someone in half and then crush up his bones and not think twice about it. It didn’t help that he knew this man had been responsible for Harry’s gun and his marksmanship, which had kept Peter from running away but also meant that he would never stand trial. It was hard to try a dead man, after all. And poor Moony would be a long time recovering from the wound in his chest, but at least he wasn’t dead.

The other was taller, lankier, with wild dark hair that looked a bit like Harry’s. He had a different sort of aura of power surrounding him, one that made Sirius want to cringe away and whimper. The man was powerful. Terrifyingly so. He felt like he could have levelled Dumbledore when Dumbledore was in his prime, so great was his power. Sirius didn’t want to know what this… juggernaut would do to him once they realized he wasn’t a dog.

And both of these men were focusing on him. He didn’t like that at all. But he’d... Harry had promised him. Harry had told him that it would be safe. So he unhappily began the transformation, and soon he was standing before these two powerful men in his rags and dishevelled state. “Hi,” he offered weakly. He hoped that Harry had something more than that planned, because the silver haired one was pointing a gun at him and the other had his staff out. This could be very painful, and Sirius was very tired of being hurt.

ooOOooOOoo

John was very lucky that his reflexes were as good as they were. Otherwise, the shot that he’d fired just as his son had blurted out, “He’s my godfather and he’s innocent!” would have actually hit the convicted criminal standing before them. Instead it flew wide and merely shattered one of his windows. A negligible expense, and certainly worth far less than a life.

“He’s innocent,” John repeated flatly. The man had allegedly killed thirteen people, not to mention betraying his son’s biological parents.

“He never had a trial,” Harry said quickly. “It’s a really long story, but he was set up by their friend who could turn into a rat. The friend’s dead now, so I don’t know how we can prove his innocence, but I know you can Dad. I know you can. And you wouldn’t let an innocent man go back to a prison where they’ll suck the happiness from him, will you? That’s if they even let him live! They were going to kill him when they caught him, Dad!”

It was his son’s desperation and the fact that Sirius Black looked grimly accepting of whatever fate awaited him that caused John to lower his gun. “Innocent, huh?” he asked, looking the man in the eye. He’d always considered himself a pretty good judge of character.

“I didn’t do it. I never would have betrayed Jamie or Lily like that,” the man rasped, his eyes wide and wounded and just a little bit insane. “I loved them. I love little Harry. You have to believe me.”

John glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye, and the older wizard nodded once. “As it happens, I think we do,” John said finally. His legal team would love this.

Hopefully they were as good at navigating the law of wizarding Europe as they were at navigating the laws of Chicago, because they were about to have a hell of a case dropped in their lap.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Getting Sirius exonerated turned out to be far more simple than John had anticipated. One would assume that getting an untried convict declared innocent would take months, perhaps even years, but the opposite was true. The American wizarding community rallied behind Sirius, seeing him as a sympathetic hero that deserved their protection rather than deportation. With the support of the American Ministry (which John hadn’t even known existed until they’d shown up at his doorstep), as well as John’s support as a Signatory, the British Ministry had little choice but to actually allow Sirius onto British soil for a proper trial.

Sirius returned to British soil August 18th, where he was taken into Auror custody. He was held for less than three hours before his trial, where he stood before the Wizengamot and testified under the influence of Veritaserum. His testimony was corroborated by the body of Peter Pettigrew and by Professor Severus Snape, who apparently had been there to hear Pettigrew confess to the murder. He was declared innocent of all charges that same day, pardoned for any crimes he may have committed while on the run from Azkaban, and offered a large sum of money as compensation for the false imprisonment.

Sirius turned down all monetary compensation and instead requested a set of five tickets to the Quidditch World Cup instead.

The sporting event was... an experience, and one that John wasn’t sure he wanted to repeat. He enjoyed getting to know his son’s Professor from last year, though he was unamused when Harry apologized for shooting the man. Apparently he’d been a werewolf. And, now both he and Harry understood just how dangerous Quidditch was and could worry even more when Harry talked about it in his letters home. Not that Harry worried. Harry thought it looked like fun, and John forbade him trying it.

His son was already unhealthily obsessed with the game. He really didn’t need his lover suffering from the same affliction.

They went home the night of the match, despite the fact that the Weasleys invited them to share their tent. That turned out to be a good thing, considering that there was some kind of attack in the middle of the night.

And then it was time for Harry to head back to school. As always, John didn’t want him to go. He pointed out that his teacher had tried to kill him yet again, which made them three for three when it came to some form of assault from professors at the school. Harry had caved and told them all about Lockhart during their discussion of the mishap with Professor Lupin. But Harry still wanted to go, and Harry also knew that neither John nor Harry could stop him from going. And so, feeling like something was bound to go wrong again this year, John and Harry sent him off once more.

Harry sent them several letters over the next month and a half, and then, quite suddenly, they stopped. A few weeks after Halloween, they got their first from him in almost two months, and the letter was simply three lines,

_Daddy,_

_I want to come home._

_-Harry_

John didn’t stop to wonder what had changed his son’s mind. He simply woke Harry in the middle of the night, contracted Sigrun and woke Nathan, and got himself and Harry tickets. Before dawn, he and Harry were on a plane, heading over to Scotland to go pick up their son.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry sat, alone and tired, in the Great Hall as he picked at his dinner. He’d sent his letter to his father off three days ago, as soon as he’d known what he would be up against for the First Task, knowing that it wouldn’t be soon enough. He should have written to them sooner. Now the task was over, and he’d almost been killed, and everybody had thought it was great entertainment.

He hadn’t put his name in the Goblet. He’d told them all. He’d told every single person every chance that he got that he hadn’t put his name in the Goblet. He’d told the Headmaster when he’d first been asked, he’d told Rita Skeeter, he’d told Ollivander during the Weighing of the Wands. He’d told them all, and it hadn’t done any good. He was still forced to compete.

He’d tried to hide on the day of the task. He hadn’t put his name in the Goblet. He couldn’t be forced to compete. It did no good. They’d found him, and they’d forced him on to the field. He’d nearly been killed, but he’d come in first in the Tournament, tied with Krum. That was great, right?

Ron had come to him after the first task was over asking for his forgiveness, and Harry had punched him. How dare he? How dare he just expect Harry to let his cruelty slide? He’d thought Harry had wanted to be in the tournament. When had Harry ever done something just for the sake of glory? All of the things he’d done over the years, every single thing, had been because of somebody else. He’d gone to save the Stone from Voldemort, to save Ginny from the Chamber, to save Ron from a murderer. How could Ron have thought that he was some kind of… of glory seeking… whatever.

It didn’t matter. He finally saw what his parents had been trying to tell him for so long. Hogwarts was a horrible place. So what if he could be around wizarding children like himself? They all hated him. He’d much rather spend time with Molly who’d never turned her back on him, never told on him no matter what he told her. And feeling closer to his birth parents? Now Sirius was staying with his parents. Sirius would tell him anything he wanted to know about them. He’d probably also make sure Harry kept up with his wand-work.

There was absolutely no reason to stay at Hogwarts now. Not now that he saw what they were all really like, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. Had he really been that blind, that stupid? This whole school was full of two-faced people.

The doors to the Great Hall banged open, pulling Harry from his thoughts. He realized he’d been idly playing with his mashed potatoes. They looked disgusting right now, just like everything else on his plate did. He could hear the Great Hall going silent around him and then he heard, “Harry, are your things packed?”

Harry’s head dropped further in relief. “Yes sir,” he whispered in response. He’d packed just about as soon as he’d written the letter. He knew that Dad and Uncle Harry didn’t exactly like that he still came to Hogwarts, and knew that they would be quite eager to take him away the moment that he asked to go.

He stood, then, and walked to his father’s side. This world was terrible. Three times now he’d been attacked by teachers, more than that if one were to count the verbal barrages that Snape liked to use. He never learned anything in half of his classes, and now he was being forced to compete in a tournament that he hadn’t entered and nobody believed him and he’d almost died again. He would never come back here.

Never.

ooOOooOOoo

“Svana, if you wouldn’t mind? My son’s things are likely in the Gryffindor tower. You may need a teacher to let you in,” John murmured to one of the extra members of Monoc Securities he and Harry had met with when their plane touched down in London. Sigrun was next to him, and there was a third woman behind her and to her right. Nathan had been forced to wait for them at the gates to the school, as he’d never had any sort of permission to be on the grounds.

“It would be my pleasure,” she murmured through a thick accent.

“Mr. Marcone, Mr. Dresden! What brings the two of you to Hogwarts today?” the Headmaster asked, a beaming and bright smile on his face. “If we’d known you were coming-”

“I’m not here to make nice,” John said sharply. “My son wants to come home, and I’m here to see to it that it happens. Tonight, and not whenever you decide that you’re willing to finally let him leave.”

Dumbledore’s smile was politely puzzled. “I’m afraid that Harry can’t leave in the middle of the school year. He’s magically bound to compete in a tournament on Hogwarts’ behalf,” the Headmaster said. His eyes twinkled.

John could feel something behind him, heard Harry mutter something, and heard the deep sound of something large cracking. He glanced up and his eyebrows rose. “Did you just break their ceiling?” he asked his lover.

“I did. Because as the Headmaster might recall, I threatened to bring this place down around him if he ever did something to hurt our Harry,” Harry said, sounding almost cheerful. “I’m sort of looking forward to doing that if I have to.”

“I haven’t done anything to hurt Harry. I’m simply enforcing a contract,” the Headmaster said, the twinkle fading from his eyes. “Harry must compete.”

Harry jerked next to him, as though he’d been struck. “I didn’t put my name in the cup! It can’t be binding because I never wanted to enter!”

“What tournament are you talking about?” John asked sharply. He knew his son. Harry had done many stupid things, yes, but thus far they’d all been in defense of another. He couldn’t see his son breaking that habit now.

“Why, the Triwizard Tournament, of course. Your son’s name came from the Goblet of Fire, obligating him to compete in the tournament,” the Headmaster said cheerfully. “There are three tasks, and the first is rapidly approaching.

“The tournament is restricted to those of seventeen years and older,” Sigrun said shortly beside John. “In fact, you drew the age line yourself, did you not?”

“I did,” the Headmaster said softly, and now the twinkle was fading from his eyes.

“Then either you are admitting fault with your magic, which I doubt considering that nobody else under the proper age was able to enter, or the boy did not enter his own name, in which case he cannot be bound to compete.”

“He’ll lose his magic if you’re wrong,” Dumbledore cautioned.

“He’ll lose his life if he competes,” Harry interjected. “That tournament was banned for centuries because of it’s danger.” He slung an arm around Harry, who was pale and shaking and looked desperately like he needed to be put to bed with a warm cup of milk.

Harry leaned heavily against him, and John rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Right. Now that that’s settled, we’ll be going,” he murmured once Svana had returned with Harry’s trunk.

“We can remove him from the tournament!” the Headmaster called as they retreated from the school, Sigrun and the third Valkyrie watching their backs. “You don’t need to take him from school over this!”

John felt something in him snap. He let go of his son’s shoulder, stepped forward, and clenched his hands into fists. “Do you mean to tell me that you could have removed my son from this tournament, which is so dangerous there was a minimum age to compete that my son is two years away from, and you chose not to do so?” he asked through gritted teeth.

The Headmaster, apparently realizing some of the danger he was in, took a wary step back. “It isn’t as simple as that, Mr. Marcone. Removing him at this point, now that he’s competed in a task, could mean cancelling the entire tournament. You have to understand that we aren’t really willing to do that, and we’ll have to see if we can’t work something out instead. But if it’s a choice between removing him or withdrawing him from the school, then obviously we’d rather remove him.”

“That wasn’t an answer,” John ground out. “Could you have removed him from the tournament? By cancelling it or in any other way?” He stepped forward again, until he was practically breathing the same air as the Headmaster. He towered over the man, glowering at him as fiercely as he’d ever glowered in his life.

“Yes,” the Headmaster said with great reluctance.

John’s hand moved almost against his will. Though he had to admit he was rather satisfied with the crunch as his fist connected with the Headmaster’s face. The Headmaster fell in a heap of brightly colored robes and the teachers at their table all let out horrified noises, one or two going so far as to draw their wands.

“I wish you would,” Harry said from behind him, and John could feel his power building. There was the sound of glass shattering, and the windows in the Great Hall blew out. The torches went out as well, sending the room into darkness and panicking the students.

“I just want to go home,” his son said quietly, barely heard over the shrieks of the students.

John turned his back on the teachers, the students, and their ridiculous Headmaster. “Then we’ll go home,” he said quietly. They left the hall and the school, and Svana met them outside with Harry’s trunk, his owl, and Mouse.

He didn’t look back at the school. His son was with them, now, and safe, and he would never come back here again. Nothing else mattered.


	21. Chapter Twenty

“So at what point did you decide to ask me to come and get you?” John asked his son several hours into the plane ride home.

It was something like three o’clock in the morning, or somewhere around there. John would have checked his watch, but quite honestly he was afraid of what it would say. Harry, his Harry, was unconscious next to him, letting out faint snores with every breath. Apparently breaking a centuries-old ceiling had more of an effect on him than he’d wanted to say. Sigrun and Nathan were sitting towards the front of the cabin, speaking softly. John couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Sigrun was smiling and Nathan had the faintest blush on his cheeks. And his other Harry, the young one, the one that was going to make his hair fall out, had woken up with wide eyes and panicked breaths only moments ago.

His little Harry (no longer so little, but he couldn’t help but see the tiny child he’d taken from the Dursleys sometimes when he looked at him) let out a shuddery little breath and buried his fingers in Mouse’s fur. “I thought that I might be able to manage the tasks,” he whispered. And then he laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Then I found out what the first task was, and I knew that I would have to have you come and get me.”

John’s eyes slipped closed against his will. That… that didn’t sound good. At all. “And what was the first task?” He wanted to know how much warning his son had been given about the task, but he had the feeling the answer would only make his blood boil.

“I… Hagrid showed it to me. We weren’t supposed to know at all, but he wanted me to see the handlers bringing in the dragons.” Harry’s breath left him in a shaky little sigh. “As soon as I saw them, I went back to the Tower and wrote to you, but I knew it wouldn’t get there fast enough.”

“Harry…” And that was his other Harry, awake apparently sometime during the conversation. “Tell me that they didn’t make you fight a dragon.”

Harry laughed. Again, there was no joy in the sound. “I would, but I’m pretty sure that you and Dad don’t like it when I lie to you.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to fight it. I tried to hide, but Dumbledore and some of the officials found me and forced me out onto the field because they didn’t want me to risk my magic.”

John forced himself to take several long, slow breaths. When his rage didn’t fade, he stood. “Right. I’ll have them turn the plane around, then.”

“Dad?”

“John?”

“It’s quite clear that punching that obnoxious old man wasn’t nearly enough. I’m going to kill him myself. Now.”

Harry snorted and tugged him back down into his seat. “You really won’t,” he said cheerfully. “Killing him won’t do any good because they’ll just put someone like him back into power. You should sue them, instead. Child endangerment, mental abuse, physical abuse because they made him fight a damned dragon… just think of the possibilities!”

It wasn’t enough. John wanted to take the idiot of a Headmaster and strangle him with his bare hands. He wanted to kill him personally, in a way he hadn’t wanted to kill anyone for a very long time.

But…

But it would do neither of his Harry’s any good to have him in some wizarding prison, if they even bothered to throw him in jail at all. So, as Harry suggested, he supposed he would simply have to make it his life’s goal to ruin the man.

He let himself smile a shark’s grin. “I think that ruining Dumbledore might just be my new hobby,” he said, and felt Harry relax beside him.

He supposed it was for the best that he wouldn’t try to kill Dumbledore. With his chaos-loving lover and Harry’s godfather in charge of the boy, who knew where he would end up? John shuddered at the thought. No. Wizarding jail definitely wasn’t an option.

 

ooOOooOOoo

When the plane touched down, Harry hefted their little brat into his arms before anyone else could. Harry had dropped off to sleep again only a few minutes before landing, and he’d looked like he needed it. So Harry carried him from the plane and to the limo waiting only a few feet away on the landing strip, and settled him carefully on one of the benches. Mouse curled up at his feet, and once Harry and John had settled into the car, the limo started to move.

The ride back to the house would be a fairly long one, and it would give Harry a chance to say what was really on his mind. Assuming, of course, that the brat stayed asleep. Given his level of exhaustion, he thought that was a pretty likely thing.

“You have something you want to say,” John said from beside him.

Harry’s let out a huff of laughter. “I do, actually. It’s like you know me.” He rested his head against the back of the seats and considered what he wanted to say. “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do with him now that he’s really not going back to Hogwarts.”

“I suppose you’ll resume teaching him magic full time, and I would imagine that his godfather will teach him about the other type of magic so I won’t have to find him a tutor for that.” He could feel John shrug. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find a tutor for all of the other things he’ll need to learn. Homeschooling certainly never hurt anyone.”

Harry sighed. He’d hoped to avoid this conversation, but apparently his luck was never that good. “You can’t keep him at home, John.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at him just in time to see John’s eyebrow twitch. “And why not? He certainly isn’t going to a public school. There are too many people out there that would use him to hurt me.”

“So send him to a private school that will allow him in with a bodyguard. I’m sure they exist.” Harry bit his lip, then spit out his next sentence. “You can’t isolate him. That’s part of the reason he loved Hogwarts so much, you know. He had friends there.”

John’s frown was the most severe Harry had ever seen. “I know that he had friends there. And he has friends at home, too! I’m sure Molly would be most offended to hear you say that he needs friends, and he has Mouse and his godfather.”

Harry groaned. “A dog. A man our age. And a girl. A girl who’s a couple of years older than him, too. John, seriously?” He loved the man, but Empty Night was he being dense about this.

John’s answering groan was one of defeat. “There’s a chance that you might have a point.” He let out an unhappy noise. “Fine. We’ll find somewhere that he can go to school, and keep Sigrun with him. But it won’t be until the new year at least.”

“That seems like a reasonable compromise.” Harry grinned at him and leaned over to kiss him because good behavior deserved a reward.

“Gross,” came the sleepy mutter from Harry’s bench, and Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

“Go back to sleep, brat. You need it.”

“I was sleeping,” Harry muttered, his eyes already closing again. “Then you two started not-arguing and I…” He trailed off as he fell back to sleep, and Harry couldn’t help his soft laughter.

The rest of the ride home was peaceful, even when John took a phone call that left him swearing viciously into the phone at several different people for several minutes each. That was business as usual, and Harry was of the opinion that they could use some more business as usual.

ooOOooOOoo

Sirius wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t happy to see his little Prongslet so soon after sending him off to Hogwarts. But... “Are you sure you won’t ever go back?” he asked Harry plaintively, three days after Harry had come back.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to. It’s dangerous there, Siri,” Harry answered with a small sigh. “I didn’t want to leave, not really, but they were making me compete in the Tournament. I fought a dragon, Sirius, and it almost ate me. I’m a little too young to die, you know.” Mouse was halfway into Harry’s lap and Harry’s head was resting on Sirius’ shoulder as they sat on the couch after a Charms lesson.

“I don’t know, squirt, I think you’re right at about the age to be having harrowing experiences and life-threatening adventures,” Molly said cheerfully as she entered the room.

Sirius liked Molly. She was clever and quick and was no slouch at pulling practical jokes, either. She never took any flack from anybody, and in that sense she sorta reminded him of Lily. And then there was the fact that his godson apparently worshipped the ground she walked upon. Hopefully their story would have a happier ending than Lily’s and James’ did.

Assuming, that was to say, that he wasn’t just counting his chickens before they hatched. But he didn’t think he was. He remembered James and Lily far too well, and these two danced around each other just like they did. It was kind of adorable, to be honest.

“What do you think he’s grinning at?” Harry asked Molly in a stage whisper.

The seventeen year old shook her blue colored head shortly. “I have no idea. Old people are weird. Wanna go practice our veil-making?” she asked as she blew a gum bubble and popped it.

Harry grinned. “I’ve really missed practicing magic with you,” he said shyly, even as he scrambled off of the couch.

Sirius was still grinning as they left the room. When Mouse made an enquiring huff of air, Sirius said cheerfully, “Doesn’t young love make you grin?”

ooOOooOOoo

A week or so after the turn of the year, Harry took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and stared at the building that stood before him. It was an old, beautiful building, and there were lots of people his own age wandering around wearing the same uniform he was. It wasn’t Hogwarts, but it wasn’t the same thing as being stuck around the mansion all day with only his godfather, Harry, Bob, Mouse, and Molly.

Yes, Sigrun was with him, and no, she wouldn’t ever let him go anywhere alone, but he would be around other people his own age. And they probably wouldn’t be out to kill him, and wouldn’t judge him based on his ability to speak to snakes because he’d never have the opportunity to show that skill off. They might have some things to say about his father, but they probably wouldn’t be as bad as Snape had been.

Yeah. School sounded just like what he needed right now. He could get used to this.

He took another deep breath, adjusted his coat and tie, and headed into the building.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH IN THIS CHAPTER. Not a main character (in this story, in the books it is), but it’s there, and it’s somewhat gory. It’s the section in italics if anyone feels the need to skip it.

As tends to happen when one is enjoying themselves, time passed. Before Harry knew it, he’d been a part of this new school of his for almost half of a school year, and he was loving it. It was way better than Hogwarts, even if he couldn’t practice his Quidditch skills. He was playing tennis right now, and that wasn’t the most fun he’d ever had. In the fall, though, he’d be joining the school’s soccer team. Or trying, anyway. He’d played a few games after school just for fun with some of the other boys and it seemed almost as fun as Quidditch.

But while sports were sort of fun, the best part about this new school was probably that none of the teachers hated him. In fact, most of them adored him. He was polite, well-mannered, and always did his homework. None of them predicted his death, belittled his parents (possibly because they were too afraid of his father to do so), or taught the same lesson over and over again. And they definitely didn’t make him fight any dragons. This... this was truly a wonderful school.

There was just the smallest chance that Hogwarts had maybe set his bar a little bit low there.

“So do you feel like you made the right decision?” Dad asked as he stood in the doorway, waiting for Harry to close his eyes to go to sleep.

Harry would have resented the fact that his dad still treated him like a baby sometimes if it weren’t for the fact that he sort of enjoyed the signs that his parents cared. “I know that I did,” Harry answered confidently, if a bit sleepily.

He’d missed his parents, both of them, so much more than he’d realized while he was at Hogwarts. His therapist, because of course Dad had him seeing her again, made sure that he understood that wanting his parents’ affection wasn’t a sign of weakness, or anything like that. He’d been through a lot during his years at Hogwarts, more than he’d realized at the time. It hadn’t seemed like so much when it was just one or two dangerous things each year. And they hadn’t seemed so dangerous or traumatic when he was doing them, but he supposed the fact that he still had nightmares about the basilisk meant that they had been traumatizing.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing he’d learned under her care was that she would be very surprised if the repeated traumas didn’t affect him in the years to come. He saw her once a week, now, and if he had too many nightmares his parents would up that to twice a week. He’d already been warned, and his therapist agreed that was a good idea.

Harry thought that maybe she just wanted to keep getting a paycheck for a few more years, but he could be wrong about that, too. Hogwarts had been… rough, he was realizing. So maybe she was right, and maybe it had messed him up more than he’d realized.

“Well, if you’re so confident,” Dad murmured, and turned out the lights. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, Dad,” Harry said sleepily, and curled in on his side. Mouse was warm next to him, like a living breathing furnace, and Harry couldn’t possibly stay awake when he was so comfortable after a long day of slaughtering his opponents at tennis.

He dropped off to sleep easily.

ooOOooOOoo

_“What have you brought me this time, you useless snivelling idiots?” a high, cold voice asked, and Harry looked around himself._

_He was in a graveyard, and there were men in black masks everywhere. They were shuffling about nervously, and one of them finally drug somebody forward. Harry saw the flash of red hair and realized that the somebody in question was Ginny Weasley. She was awake and struggling and cursing them loudly._

_“You bastards! Somebody will come for me, just you watch! Harry will come for me!”_

_The high, thin voice laughed dangerously. “No he won’t, little one. Haven’t you heard? He’s run away from the wizarding world. And he’d better, because I’m going to destroy him when next I see him.” And then, softer, in a very pleased tone, “You have done well this time, my followers. She will work nicely as my... sacrifice. She has already interacted with a part of my soul before, after all.”_

_What followed was... was terrible. They bound Ginny to a tall gravestone, cut into her, and one of the masked figures poured the blood into a massive bubbling cauldron. There was more to the ritual, more terrible things that made Harry want to run and hide but he couldn’t because he couldn’t get out of this dream, and then a monster stepped from it, fully formed and laughing coldly._

_Harry tried to wake up again, to retreat from the dream. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but watch. It was like he wasn’t even really there. But it felt so real. He could feel the cold air of the graveyard, feel the mist as it shifted over his skin. And he was terrified._

_“What should we do with the girl?” one of the masked men asked, and ran a hand down Ginny’s shaking leg in a proprietary motion._

_“She is filth and a blood traitor. Would you lower yourself to that?” Voldemort, for it could be nobody else, sneered. “No. She isn’t worth the air she breathes. Not worth the magic it would take to end her miserable existence We shall allow my pet to deal with her.” And then, softly, he hissed, “My pet, are you hungry? You’ve a meal waiting for you.”_

_Ginny screamed as the massive python slid up her torso and stared into her eyes before snapping forward and biting into her neck. She screamed and screamed and screamed until she could scream no longer because it was coming out as a gurgle instead. And then she made no noise at all, beyond the noise her flesh made as the snake tore into it._

_Harry screamed and fell to his knees and began to retch violently._

ooOOooOOoo

Harry woke up, still retching helplessly. He staggered from his bed, sobbing and made it to his bathroom before he threw up everything in his stomach. He heaved several more times, and when it stopped he rinsed his mouth out, still crying helplessly. It hadn’t been real. It couldn’t have been real. It just... no. No. He’d saved Ginny; why would somebody kill her now? No. Voldemort was dead and gone. It hadn’t happened.

But it had been so real. He started to cry again, and when he looked up at himself in the mirror he realized that his scar had torn open sometime in the night and was bleeding. He didn’t even feel it, not right now. He cleaned it with shaking hands and then went to sit on his bed. Mouse was awake and staring at him, and when Harry didn’t respond to gentle nudges or licks, Mouse went over to stand by the door.

Harry shakily stood and let him out, only for Mouse to grab him by the hem of his nightshirt and tug gently. Harry went, numb and shaking and still crying just a bit. Now he could feel the pain in his scar; it felt like it was on fire. He was pretty sure it was still bleeding, too, because he could feel something dripping down his face. He must look a mess.

Mouse stopped them and pawed at the door, and it was only when Dad opened it that Harry realized where he’d been led.

“Harry?” Dad gasped out, and reached out to hesitantly touch Harry’s shoulders. “God, what’s wrong?” he asked urgently.

Harry didn’t answer aloud. He instead let out a wordless, keening sob and leaned into his father’s arms. It was safe there. If that had been real, and he had the horrible, sinking suspicion that it had been, he knew that he would be safe with his Daddy.

“Of course you are,” Dad said soothingly because apparently he’d been speaking aloud, and drew him into the room. “Come on, up on the bed while I look at your forehead. It’s okay, we’ll patch you up,”

Uncle Harry was awake now, too, and held Harry as Dad went for the first aid kit. Harry was barely conscious by now, still crying a bit but the panic was subsiding. He was safe here. Nobody could hurt him here.

By the time his Dad had cleaned his forehead once more and wrapped it with gauze, Harry had fallen into an uneasy sleep. He spent the night there, curled in between his two parents, tossing and turning as the nightmare replayed itself in his mind over and over again.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

Perhaps, if Harry’s nightmares had simply left off with just the first, things would have been okay. As it stood, once the dreams had begun they did not stop. Each night he woke with his scar bleeding, his young form wracked with terrible sobs. He was miserable, and it was becoming painfully clear that these were no nightmares. They were visions. And visions were one of the forms of magic that Harry knew nothing about.

“I wish we knew how to stop them,” Harry growled, once their little one who was no longer so little had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Harry had turned fifteen that day, but it didn’t matter much because he’d been barely conscious. Not sleeping for several months would do that to a person. Once the dreams had started they’d had no choice but to withdraw him from school. It had been a sign of how terrible Harry had felt at the time because he hadn’t fought them on the withdrawal. He’d simply gone along with it.

They were in Harry’s lab, now, and Harry was messing with the potion he’d used to put Harry to sleep just a few moments ago. It probably wouldn’t last any longer than the others, which was why he was fiddling with it now. It was better to try and work on improving it now, while Harry was asleep, than to work on it when he was both awake and so tired he couldn’t stop crying.

“Isn’t there anyone you know of that might have experience with this? Sigrun says that her employer knows nothing of this, or if he does he’s refusing to speak.” John’s own voice was filled with weary frustration.

Because Harry wasn’t sleeping, neither were they. It had gotten to the point where they traded nights with Sirius, but even sleeping every other night was no way to continue in the long run. Something had to give, because they were all going slowly mad with this.

“You know, I wonder if there isn’t some kind of darker magic at work here,” Bob said suddenly. The spirit sounded thoughtful, and Harry turned to stare at him. “It’s just that this is very strange, and there isn’t much that could be causing the boy to have these sorts of visions. He’s not naturally prescient, after all. Therefore we should be looking for an unnatural cause.”

“Okay, but I’ve never heard of anything that can force somebody to have visions like the ones that Harry’s been having,” Harry shot back. “Yeah, there are the ones that give the gift of temporary foresight, but they almost never work and when they do they aren’t anywhere near so specific when they do.”

“There’s something... something’s there. But I can’t really... hmm.” Bob fell silent, then, for several moments. “Do you think that maybe I could take a closer look at him?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “If this is a ploy to hurt him-”

“Boss! Really? I love the kid just as much… well, okay, not just as much as you and John do, but he’s a sweetheart! I would never! I just… need to take a look inside his head, that’s all.” There was nothing but earnestness in Bob’s voice.

Harry hesitated, then glanced at John. “What do you think?”

“If there’s a chance that Bob can figure this out, then I think it’s a chance we have to take.”

Harry didn’t like it. Bob was too tricky to just let… but, well, what choice did they have? It wasn’t like he was allowed to just pop into Harry’s head and take a look around. The White Council would kill him if they found out. But Bob… well, Bob wasn’t bound by their laws.

“Just to look, Bob.”

Bob let out a small noise of confirmation, then the glow faded from the skull and surrounded Harry’s sleeping form briefly. The glow faded and the lab went silent. Harry couldn’t have said how long they stood there, he and John, waiting for Bob to come back, to say something, for anything to happen. It seemed like forever. Logically, he knew that it was probably only a few minutes.

The glow transferred back to the skull, then, and Harry jumped. “I don’t think that you’re going to like what I’ve got to say, Boss,” the spirit said.

“Did you find anything? Because something’s better than the nothing we have to go on, even if we don’t like it.”

“Oh, I found something. And I even know what to do with it. I just don’t think you’re going to like the solution because I think we’ll need to call your godmother.”

Harry groaned. His godmother. He hadn’t spoken to Lea in years, not since he’d asked her to take Harry and run if they should lose the custodial suit to the Ministry. She hadn’t felt the need to meddle in his life, apparently, once he was settled down. “Why do I need her?” he asked. “Isn’t this something that John or I could handle?”

“Probably not, if it’s what I’m thinking of. Or do you know how to extract a horcrux without harming the vessel that holds it? Because that could also result in you being decreed a Warlock, considering that you’d have to interfere with the little one’s mind to do it.”

Harry scowled. “What’s a horcrux?” he asked. He’d never heard the term before. Which, well, that wasn’t really all that surprising. What he didn’t know vastly eclipsed that which he did, even now when he spent most of his time doing research.

Bob sighed. “It’s a... it’s a shard of somebody’s soul. It’s really black magic is what it is, and I don’t think that you’d be able to extract it without a lot more delicacy than you’re used to. And you shouldn’t expose a kid like Molly to the kind of magic its gonna take if I’m right.”

“You seem very reluctant to contact your godmother,” John observed quietly once Bob had fallen silent.

Harry let out another groan. He’d never mentioned the fae to John. He’d just sorta pushed her out of her mind because it didn’t really matter anymore, did it? Once he’d been happy and settled she’d just… sort of… left him alone. Oh, he had no doubt that she was still going to claim her favors one day, but she hadn’t come to visit or anything. So the topic of his godmother just hadn’t seemed that important. “She’s... look. Her idea of keeping me safe was turning me into a dog in her garden, okay?” he explained.

John, the bastard, chuckled softly. “She sounds like a piece of work,” he allowed.

“Yeah, well, give me a few minutes and you’ll get to meet her,” Harry grumbled. Oh, stars and stones, he was going to have to summon his godmother. If the situation weren’t so dire, if Harry weren’t in so much pain, he would never have dreamed of bringing himself further into his godmother’s debt. But he was, and Harry would do anything for the kid, so he supposed he had a fae to summon.

ooOOooOOoo

John hadn’t met many fae as of yet, but he was quite certain that Harry’s godmother was a very beautiful one. She also looked like she was more than capable of breaking him in half, so he made certain to tell her just how beautiful she was. Like most ladies, the Leanansidhe seemed to appreciate that.

“And are you not such a perfect gentleman for my darling Harry?” the Fae crooned, and patted John on the cheek. He fought the urge to flinch back as her sharp nails dug gently into his face. He only hoped they didn’t leave any kind of mark.

“Listen, Lea, I called you for a reason,” Harry began, only to have her pout at him.

“You never call or write your dear godmother, so of course this wouldn’t be for a social visit,” the fae muttered. “Very well, child, what can your godmother do for you?” She scowled, then, and added, “And do not forget that your debt to me is not yet cleared. This will only add to it.”

Harry groaned. “Right. Debt. I hadn’t forgotten,” he said quickly. John fought down a snicker, because it was quite clear that Harry had forgotten whatever debt she spoke of. Or at least wanted to forget. “But this is something... look, what do you know of horcruxes?”

She hissed. “A deep and dark magic, child, and one that I would not expect you to be playing with. Why do you ask?”

“It’s my son, my Lady,” John interrupted, and bore the full focus of her eyes on him. It was a little unnerving, but then, she was several centuries old, if not older. Doubtlessly her stare would be a little bit more than he was used to. “We have reason to believe that there’s one attached to him.”

“A living horcrux?” she asked, startled. “How... odd. I might even have to call it a unique occurrence, for I’ve never heard of a Dark Lord mad enough to attempt to attach a piece of their soul to something already living.” She tapped one blood-red nail against her lips as she considered the matter.

“If he is one, and we don’t know for sure if he is or not, we need to have the fragment removed,” John continued.

The Leanansidhe scoffed at him. “Of course you do! You cannot risk the fragment bleeding into your son’s consciousness, or worse, taking him over entirely.”

John paled. That was not something he’d even realized was possible.

“Thanks for the nightmare fuel, godmother,” Harry ground out, and John realized that Harry hadn’t thought of that either.

“You are always welcome for that,” she said cheerfully, and John got the impression that she either didn’t understand the sarcasm, or that she simply didn’t care. “If you think that the child is under the thrall of a horcrux, it is best to take me to him now. And I’ll tell you what. Since this sounds so interesting, I won’t even use it to add to your debt. It isn’t everyday that a wizard manages to do something new that I’ve never before seen.”

Although John wasn’t entirely sure that he approved of the way she spoke of his son, he also acknowledged that they didn’t have much choice. He and Harry escorted her from the lab and in the direction of Harry’s room, hoping that they’d made the right choice.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight gore warning for this chapter. Nothing's shown on screen, but Lea's ritual is pretty bloody. Tread lightly.

Having his godmother in the house was making Harry a little bit edgy. No, really, make that a lot edgy. She didn’t belong here. Considering that he hadn’t seen her in years, he hadn’t even been sure that she would answer his call. But she had, so he supposed that meant that he meant more to her than he’d realized.

Well, okay. That wasn’t fair, was it? He knew that his godmother loved him in her own, faerie way. She wasn’t human, and it was very difficult for him to remember that. She was a fae from the Nevernever, and her mind worked in mysterious ways. Well, okay, not so mysterious as all that, really, but still. Sometimes it was hard to follow the way that her mind worked.

As they opened the door to Harry’s bedroom, Sirius and Mouse looked up. Mouse was curled around his charge, and Sirius was sitting in the very comfortable chair they’d placed next to Harry’s bed. John had gotten very tired of waking up with his back sore very quickly, and Harry hadn’t protested the addition to his rooms. He liked having one of the adults with him when he woke up screaming, as he invariably did, and none of them could begrudge him that.

“Where on earth did you get ahold of a Foo dog?” Lea was breathing, and Harry snapped his attention back to her. She was staring at Mouse with an expression of genuine surprise.

“A what, now?” Harry asked. “If you mean Mouse, he found us, and by us I mean Harry, a few years ago. We’ve had him ever since. Although I don’t think that any of us thought he would grow so much,” he added thoughtfully, studying the behemoth that managed to dwarf the teenager sleeping uneasily in the bed.

And then it caught up with Harry exactly what she’d said. “Mouse is a Foo dog?” he squeaked. He knew what those were, and he couldn’t believe that he’d never made the connection. Mouse was certainly intelligent, and certainly stronger and faster than other dogs, but he’d never imagined.... their little one had a hell of a protector in Mouse if she was right.

“He… perhaps he is merely a descendent, but he definitely has Foo in his ancestry,” Lea murmured, and then stepped forward. When Mouse growled at her, she tutted softly at him. “Now, now, I’m here to help. Might I examine your charge?” she asked, and waited until Mouse backed slowly away from Harry to lean down and examine him.

When she stood, her face was grim. “You were right. It is, indeed, a horcrux inside of him.”

Sirius let out a low, wounded noise. “Not Harry,” he protested. It was clear that he knew exactly what a horcrux was, and the thought horrified him.

“Bob figured it out,” Harry offered quietly. “He suggested that I call my godmother,” he added, catching up the animagus. “Can you help him?” he asked Lea.

She looked thoughtful for a few moments, then nodded once, sharply. “I can help him, although I’m afraid that the cure might be more painful than leaving it in place.” And then she chuckled and added, “Although the cure will be significantly less lethal.”

She glanced from man to man to dog to man and said quietly, “Now go. Leave me with the boy, and know that I will do all I can to remove this stain from his soul. I will fetch you when it is done.”

Mouse was the first to leave, hopping off the bed and giving her a baleful glare even as he stalked from the room. Sirius took his cue from Mouse and followed, and John went after. Harry waited until all three were gone and began quietly, “If you can save him,”

“I can save him. And I will. Go, now, and comfort your mate while I perform this task for you.”

Harry nodded once and turned to leave the room. As he was almost out the door, he heard her call to him, “And Harry, dearest, it’s good to see you so happy. It does a godmother good to see such joy on your face, and know that I will do nothing to ruin it.”

Oddly enough, the promise was quite comforting. Harry left with a half smile on his face, hoping that things would be okay.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry woke to a strange woman leaning over him, and nobody in his room with him that he knew. In fact, the strange woman was the only one in the room with him. Coming from his strange visions once more, this was enough to make him start screaming again. What had happened? Where were his parents, his godfather, Mouse?

“Stop screaming before I feed you your tongue,” the woman said sharply, and Harry was startled enough that he fell silent. “Good boy. Now. You’ve been having terrible visions, yes?” Though she sounded as though she already knew the answer to her question, Harry nodded for her anyway. “Of one person, correct? An evil being the likes of which terrifies you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was getting the idea that, as strange as this woman was, she was apparently here to help him. But why his parents weren’t with him, why Mouse wasn’t here with him, he didn’t know.

“This is because this black wizard you dream of has left a piece of his soul inside of you,” the woman said bluntly. “And if it is left there, it will continue to fester and rot until your soul is as black as his.”

Harry’s vision began to darken at the edges and his head spun. He had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him. He was carrying a piece of the monster that murdered his parents. Oh god, what was going to happen to him? What did she mean, his shoul would fester and rot? Did that mean that he was going to be just like Voldemort one day?

“Please,” he managed to choke out, not even entirely sure what he was asking for.

The woman, apparently, knew what he wanted. “I can remove this burden from you,” she said quietly, the foreboding tone of her voice drawing Harry’s attention. “It will hurt like nothing you’ve ever known, but the visions will stop, as will his hold on you. Your parents wish for me to do this, but it is you who will have to withstand the ritual. Tell me, child, are you prepared?”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew that he felt physically sickened by the idea that there was a piece of Voldemort inside of him, at the idea that he could be carrying that monster... No. He couldn’t deal with that. “I’m ready,” he said with a confidence he didn’t quite feel.

She smiled, a slow and dangerous thing. When she pulled a long, wickedly sharp knife from somewhere, Harry wondered if he’d made the right decision. And then she started to cut, and Harry started to scream.

ooOOooOOoo

The silence was deafening. The screaming had stopped only moments ago, and Harry, John, and Sirius were waiting in the hallway, their eyes all focused unerringly on Harry’s door. Once the screaming had begun a ward had sprung up, keeping them from the room. Harry had tried everything he could think of to break it, and nothing he’d tried had done anything but give him a headache. Only Mouse had seemed unconcerned, his head buried beneath his paws.

It was that unconcern that had allowed Harry to stop trying to bust down the wards and had kept John from getting his shotgun filled with Cold Iron. Now, even Mouse was staring at the door, waiting silently for somebody to tell them what was going on.

Leanansidhe swept from the room, her hands red with blood that likely was not her own. “It is finished,” she said quietly. “The child sleeps the first true sleep since the monster rose once more, and the bond between them is broken. The Dark Lord will trouble him no more.”

Harry sagged with relief, and he heard John let out a small sigh as well. Sirius made no sound, but instead went back into Harry’s bedroom, followed by a much more sedate Mouse.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

The fae smiled at him, an expression of warmth and kindness the likes of which he was unfamiliar with from her. “It was a pleasure,” she answered sincerely. “He will need a great deal of rest for the time being, and you’ll have to watch the markings I made to ensure that there is no infection. But the darkness is now removed from him, and will never return.” And then she nodded in the direction of Harry’s bedroom. “Go, sit with him. I can show myself out.”

And then she was gone, as though she’d never been there in the first place.

But when Harry and John entered their son’s bedroom, the window was frosted over and Harry’s lips were a little bit blue with the cold. His naked form was covered in unfamiliar runes that had been carved directly into his skin, and Sirius was already working on bandaging them.

But, most importantly of all, he was truly asleep, and the scar that had marked him for so long was now entirely gone from his forehead.

ooOOooOOoo

Voldemort could not remember when last he had awoken to a freezing cold room. Clearly the house elves would need to be punished, and he sat up to summon one. He found his words freezing in his lips at the sight of the beautiful woman standing at the foot of his bed. In all of his years, he’d never seen another like her.

“I wondered how long it would take you to wake up,” she said. Her voice was cold, frigid even, and bored. As though anyone could be bored standing before him, the Dark Lord!

His anger rose and he snarled, “Just who do you think you’re speaking to?”

She laughed. “Another mortal Dark Lord who will eventually fall like all the rest, of course.”

Voldemort went for his wand only to find that his hands were frozen to the bed. “You-”

“Oh, do stop your fussing. I’m not here to harm you. In fact, you owe me your thanks.” She smiled at him, but the smile was a cruel little thing.

“Why should I thank you? I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“I’ve negated your little prophecy problem,” she answered, and threw something to land in his lap. It was something like a crystal ball, cold and dark with swirling black fog inside. “That, you foolish thing, is the piece of your soul that you so carelessly left behind in Harry Potter the night you attempted to kill him. I’ve removed it from him and am returning it to you.” She leaned forward, then, resting her hands against the bed. “And all I ask in return is the simplest of favors.”

Voldemort stared at the orb. Now that he knew what it was, he could feel it. The connection to his soul. This was, indeed, a horcrux of his. “What do you want?”

“My godson cares greatly for the one you would attempt to kill, despite the fact that I can assure you that the prophecy is no more. All I ask is that, so long as they pick no fights with you, you leave Harry Potter and his family alone.” She sat down on the bed and patted his covered leg, letting him feel the coldness of her. “Since they’re on the other side of the… the pond, I think you call it, that shouldn’t be terribly difficult for you to do. If you could do that for me, then I will consider your debt to me paid in full.”

Voldemort opened his mouth to agree, then frowned. “I owe you no debt,” he protested.

Her eyebrow quirked up. “But of course you do! I’ve returned a piece of your soul to you. What more of a debt could there be between us?”

“I never asked you to do that.”

Her smile faded and she stared at him, her gaze turning as cold as her voice. “Understand this, mortal. You can agree to this, which I will consider to be a binding contract between us, or I can use that piece of your soul to track down all of your other little toys. And I will break them, and then I will come back and grant you the immortality you so desire, as a mouse in a cage. And when I tire of you, I shall feed you to the nearest cat.” The temperature in the room dropped as she spoke until Voldemort could see his breath in front of him and he was shivering madly.

He opened his mouth to argue with her, then thought better of it. He was rather outclassed here, he thought. He dipped his head in a nod. “Very well.”

“Agree to my terms out loud, mortal wizard, and I'll be out of your hair,” she said, and then laughed. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

Voldemort bared his teeth in what could never be mistaken as a smile. “So long as they don’t raise a hand against me, I promise to leave Harry Potter and his family alone,” he snarled.

There was the feel of something heavy settling around him, a sense that his words had been more than words, and the woman before him nodded once, regally.

“I will accept your oath, mortal wizard. I wish you the best of luck in your conquest.” She stood and, as Voldemort watched, vanished in a swirl of snow.

With her disappearance, so disappeared the shackles of ice binding his wrists in place. Now wide awake, Voldemort stood and pulled on a robe. He thought that maybe he would go check the wards. Not that he knew of wards that could stop a creature like that, but… perhaps just in case.

And… maybe he would check the security of his other horcruxes. Just in case that woman, whoever she’d been, changed her mind.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

Had it not been for the doctors he’d called in, John would likely be panicking. And… there was a chance that even with the doctors he’d called, he was still panicking.

Harry hadn’t woken up since Leanansidhe had left the mansion. That first night he’d been still and silent, and had remained so for the rest of the week after. John had called in the first doctor when Harry didn’t wake up after a day, and he’d been assured that the boy was just exhausted. Each doctor he’d called after had agreed with the first doctor’s diagnosis, but John couldn’t quite stop himself from calling them.

His hand was on the phone to call the next on his list when Harry’s hand covered his. “He’s fine, John. Kid’s just getting the sleep he wasn’t able to while he was getting those awful dreams.”

John took a deep breath and let it hiss out through his teeth. “It’s been a week. I think that I’m entitled to be a little nervous.”

Harry shrugged and tugged him into a loose hug. “Those visions would have really taken it out of him magically speaking, too. It could be that he’s trying to recharge both physical and magical batteries. He’s fine.”

“But…” John closed his eyes and let himself go limp in Harry’s hold. “You’re right,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t stop worrying about him. We… we almost…”

They’d almost lost him. He couldn’t even say the words out loud. But if Bob hadn’t looked into his head, if Harry hadn’t thought to call his godmother, they could have lost him. No. There was no could have about it. They would have. He hadn’t been able to help his son. And that was... difficult, he supposed, for him to face.

“We did. But he’s fine, John. Or he will be. We saved him.”

“You saved him,” John blurted, then winced. He hadn’t really meant to say that.

Harry’s arms tightened around him. “I’m just going to pretend like I didn’t hear you say that,” he murmured into John’s hair, his breath stirring the strands. “Maybe you couldn’t help him this time, but who rescued him in the first place? Who made sure that those wand-waving idiots let us keep him? Who got on a plane in the middle of the night just because his son asked to come home?”

John took another deep breath and forced himself to relax. “You’re right, of course. I’m just… we almost lost him, Harry, and it might take me a while to recover from that.”

“We didn’t lose him. He’ll be fine. And you take as long as you need to recover.” John could feel Harry’s hesitance when he added, “Maybe you should think about seeing Harry’s therapist for a few sessions yourself.”

John drew back from him far enough to look at him skeptically. “Do you really think that I need that?” he asked.

“I think…” Harry stopped. “I think that if you were serious about feeling guilty because there was nothing you could do for Harry in this one particular instance then yes. I was serious.”

“It… might not be a bad idea,” John muttered. He didn’t like the idea of therapy, but he liked the idea of resenting Harry for being able to help their son even less. Not that he resented Harry. Because he didn’t. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone about it.

“Hey, you two. If you’re done canoodling, Sirius said that Harry’s awake!” Molly flung a pillow from the couch at both of them and then scampered back out of the way before they could retaliate.

Fortunately for her, John was too relieved when he heard the news to retaliate, and Harry had his hands full with his arms still around John.

“She is such a brat,” Harry muttered, but it was fond. “You ready to go see your kid? And, you know, not get guilt all over him because you’re feeling inadequate?”

John took a deep breath. “Let’s go see our kid, then.” He drew away and forced a smile on his face, and by the time he was tapping on Harry’s door and slipping into the room, the smile almost felt genuine. His son was alive, and that was what mattered.

Everything else would be just fine. Eventually.

ooOOooOOoo

Without the Horcrux inside of him to show him terrible things of the wizarding world he’d left behind, Harry worked on recovering. He began a regime of rather intensive therapy, seeing his therapist every other day for the following two weeks. They discussed the visions he’d had and his feelings of guilt over not being there to help the people he saw being murdered.

It took a lot of work, but Harry’s therapist eventually did convince him that there was nothing he could have done. That he was a child, and that it wasn’t his job to deal with the monster who haunted his nightmares even still. By the time school started up again, Harry almost believed her. Almost.

By the end of the year, he really did agree with her and focused his attention on being a normal kid. It was… more liberating than he’d ever imagined, actually, to know that something wasn’t going to try and kill him at the end of the school year. Once he realized that, time began to fly. Harry mastered the magics that his Uncle Harry taught him and learned more traditional subjects at school. Before he knew it, he was sixteen and was nearing the end of his junior year in high school, and he had a monster of an entirely different sort to slay.

“So, Molly,” Harry began nervously. She was nineteen, now, and was probably more beautiful than ever. Her hair was a vibrant shade of green streaked with blue this week, and she’d just gotten a new piercing in her eyebrow.

“So, Squirt,” Harry’s fellow apprentice answered, kicking her heels up over the arm of the chair she was lounging in. She had a magazine in her hand and was idly thumbing through it. She was a study in teenage boredom.

Harry thought that was just entirely unfair. How could she be so bored when he was so nervous? That just wasn’t nice. “I was wondering...” He paused, then, and considered the ground just in front of his shoes for a minute. Really, they needed some new carpeting out here. He could still see the singe marks from when he and Molly had accidentally on purpose blown up the table when he was ten and she’d been thirteen. It was an ugly table, and it had needed to die. But really they hadn’t been trying to blow anything up. That was Harry’s story, anyway, and he was sticking to it.

“You were wondering... if you’d finally decided that you were going to man up and tell John that you know exactly what he’s doing when he has Lara and Thomas Raith over for dinner?” Molly hazarded. She let the magazine flop onto her chest and stared at Harry with a raised eyebrow. “Ooh! Or were you wondering whether or not he and Harry actually do get into trouble when Lara stays later than Thomas? Because she’s really hot. I think they do.”

Harry groaned and covered his eyes. “You suck,” he informed her through his fingers. “They’re my parents, and they never have sex. And they definitely never have sex with a White Court vampire.”

“Really? Because she’s over often enough that I would think that they totally did,” Molly shot back.

Harry grinned, dropped his hands, and said sweetly, “They tried. They both burn her too much to actually do anything fun with her.”

“Gah!” Molly shrieked, and cackled like the mad fiend that she was. “You suck! You brat, now I have to look them in the eyes with that knowledge!”

Once she’d stopped laughing and picked up her magazine once more, Harry blurted out, “Iwaswonderingifyouwouldgotopromwithme,” as quickly as he could.

Molly’s eyebrows raised. “You’re gonna have to slow it down, squirt, because I only heard about one in three of the words there. And I know you didn’t just ask me to go get rum for you. I’m as underaged as you are for that.”

Harry sighed. She’d heard him. He knew she had. She was just being an evil and wicked she-devil. He hated women. “I was wondering,” he said much more slowly and through gritted teeth, “if you would go to prom with me.”

Molly’s magazine dropped. “Wait, seriously?” she asked, her eyebrows raised over startled wide eyes. “Harry, I didn’t even go to my own prom! Also, aren’t I a little old for that?”

“Yeah, well, I’d really like it if you came to mine,” Harry answered with an awkward shrug. “With me. As a date. Just to be clear here, so that there’s no misunderstanding.”

“And the fact that I’m too old to be going to a high school prom?” she asked, her eyebrows still up.

Harry flushed and fidgeted. “You won’t be the oldest one there!” he blurted. “One of the guys on the soccer team is bringing his girlfriend, who’s like, twenty-one. Or something. She buys alcohol for the parties we have that I definitely never drink. Ever. Oh god please don’t tell my father.”

Molly stared at him in silence for several moments, and Harry fought the urge to squirm about like a fish stuck on a hook. She already knew her answer, of course. She was just making him uncomfortable. More evidence to go into his she-devil folder, not that she knew it.

“Would you just say no already?” he finally blurted out, then winced and studied the carpet once more. Seriously, like half the fibers were burnt away. Someone should seriously replace that.

“Why would I do that? I like watching you squirm,” she said cheerfully. He heard her moving, and didn’t dare look up until he felt her hand on his cheek, tilting his head up. She looked him dead in the eyes, leaned down, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. As she pulled away she murmured to him, “Your dad is totally buying my dress.” And then she left the room.

Harry stared, dazed, for a few minutes after her. When his brain finally caught up he called after her, “So that’s a yes, right?”

Molly only laughed.

ooOOooOOoo

Gentleman Johnny Marcone had one of the most feared names in Chicago. He was a murderer at the worst of times, and a friend to most of the politicians in the city at the best. He’d killed monsters, allied with other monsters, and driven countless criminals to their knees with remorse. He was also a father, and as such, he was definitely not crying as they watched the limo with Molly and Harry disappear down the driveway.

“Allergies acting up a bit there?” Harry asked him, an arm slung around his shoulders. The taller wizard wasn’t crying at all, but was instead grinning at John.

“Allergies? I thought that maybe a bug had flown into his eye,” Sirius shot to Harry, and when John glared at the other wizard he was grinning just as much as Harry was.

They were both bastards. “I hate you both,” John said conversationally. “Don’t think for a moment that I’d hesitate to take a hit out on either of you.” His voice was just a little bit choked, but clearly that was with rage over their mocking him. Clearly.

“You wouldn’t do that. You’d make Harry cry, and you wouldn’t want that.” Sirius waited a beat and added, “He’d cry just like you’re doing right now.”

Harry snickered. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a big bad mob boss bawling like a baby at the thought of sending his only child off to his junior prom.”

“So much hatred right now for both of you,” John muttered, and ducked away from Harry’s hold. The wizard stumbled a bit, startled at the sudden loss of support, and John smirked at him. “Oops.”

“That was mean, John,” Harry grumbled.

“So was mocking me for my tears,” John said sweetly.

Sirius was chuckling softly, but he fell silent when John sent a glower in his direction. “Sorry, sorry,” the man said, and raised his hands appeasingly. “I understand. I’ll probably cry myself to sleep like a little girl tonight, just like you were just now.”

John growled at him, and Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and took off running, turning into Padfoot mid-stride. Mouse took off after him, barking joyfully, and John sighed.

“I’m surrounded by children,” he said wearily to Harry.

“You know you love us,” Harry answered cheerfully. “Now c’mon, we’ve got quite a few hours until Harry brings Molly home for the night. Or should that be until Molly brings Harry home for the night?” And then, as John was heading into the house, Harry added, “Do you think that they’ll follow the time-honored tradition of losing their-”

“They will not,” John said severely, and stormed into the house. He heard Harry follow him and called over his shoulder, “I’m going to go and do some work in my office. Don’t follow me. I might accidentally shoot you if you do.”

Harry’s laughter followed him into the office, where he froze. There was a familiar old man sitting patiently behind his desk in lurid blue robes with bright lemon colored moons on them.

“Hello, Dumbledore,” John said with a cordiality he didn’t feel.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

John’s gun was in his hand even before he really registered who was in his study. He had it up and pointed at the old man in a heartbeat, Nathan or Harry’s name on his lips. One of the two would come and Dumbledore likely wouldn’t survive the experience. But… he studied Dumbledore and lowered his gun as he did so, all without saying a word.

The old man looked... well, he looked older. More tired. Exhausted, in fact, with deep shadows under his eyes. John rather vindictively thought that it served the man right, considering the exhaustion that his son had to deal with almost two years ago, while he’d still had that awful horcrux inside of him, and the exhaustive therapy Harry had gone through trying to forget the nightmares the horcrux left behind.

And then, of course, there was the old man’s arm. It was blackened and looked like it was ready to fall off at any moment. “You look like shit,” John said honestly, calmly, as he settled across from Dumbledore. He should have been unnerved; that had obviously been the old man’s intention. But John wasn’t unnerved, or frightened. They were in his own territory, after all, and to attack him here would be an act of war that wizarding Britain could scarcely afford given the information that John was receiving.

Considering that the Headmaster had invaded his territory, John would have been perfectly within his rights to shoot the man. But he didn’t. He would rather know what the idiot had to say and deal with it now than wait for it to blindside him and his family later.

“I’m a very old man, John,” the Headmaster said quietly, no joy in his voice. “And I’ve made many mistakes. I have many, many regrets in life, John, but none so great as that which I’m about to share with you.”

“I wasn’t aware that I’d invited you here for you to share anything with me,” John said coolly. He didn’t want to waste his time beating around the bush and making idle conversation. Harry would never return to Hogwarts, and the Headmaster must have known that or he’d have come long before now to try and force John’s hand. So this couldn’t possibly be about that, which meant that it was something else. Perhaps it had something to do with the horcrux?

“It’s about your son, John,” the Headmaster continued, as though he hadn’t heard him speak. “There’s a prophecy, one that I did my best to keep quiet. But Voldemort knows it now, and there’s nothing I can do to stop what’s coming. He’ll come for your son, John, and…” The Headmaster paused and took a deep breath. His voice wavered a bit as he said, “And it might be for the best if he succeeds.”

John’s eyebrows raised. So this was about the horcrux, then. He’d done some research into them after they’d removed the one from Harry, and he’d been appalled by what he found. But he bit that back and instead said, “You’ve got a lot of nerve, old man, telling me to let a monster kill my son. Just what gives you the right?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily and rubbed at his brow with his un-ruined hand. “I know that you don’t understand this, my dear boy, but you must believe in me. Your son is at the center of a prophecy that dictates how Voldemort can be killed. If you don’t allow him to die, that monster may forever walk this earth.” In Dumbledore’s defense, he sounded genuinely regretful at the idea.

John wasn’t really willing to give him any points for that. “This is about the horcrux,” he said bluntly. Clearly the old man wasn’t going to actually tell him about it if he didn’t force him to.

He had the joy, then, of watching Dumbledore’s back stiffen in surprise. “You know of it, then?” Dumbledore asked quietly. “I’d hoped to spare you the truth of the matter, but if you already know-”

“Not only do I know, it’s already been handled. The horcrux within my son is no longer a problem.” John fell silent, then, and waited.

He wasn’t disappointed. “How could you...” Dumbledore paused, stared into John’s eyes, and John felt a tickle of something deep within his mind.

He broke the old man’s gaze with effort and glared at him. “Try that again, Dumbledore, and you won’t make it out of here alive,” he cautioned. “I don’t take kindly to people trying to read my mind.”

“My apologies,” Dumbledore murmured. “It’s rare that a Muggle can detect what I’m doing in their heads,” he added with a self-deprecating smile. “I know that doesn’t make it right, but you’ll have to forgive an old man his eccentricities.”

“An eccentricity is the robe that you’re wearing. What you just did should be a crime, and I don’t have to forgive you anything,” John said flatly. “Now. The horcrux has been removed from my son, and trust me, if anything comes sniffing after him I won’t hesitate to put whatever it is down, whether it be this Voldemort creature or you yourself. Was there anything else?”

“Harry Potter is the child of a great prophecy. He is destined to defeat Voldemort,” the Headmaster tried.

John shook his head. “Harry Potter is a sixteen year old boy who is destined to have a really great time at prom, followed by an excellent senior year. After that he’ll go the college of his choice, and eventually, if that is his desire, he’ll take over my position as Freeholding Lord of Chicago, where I’m sure he’ll defeat many a Dark Lord, although I doubt they’ll be the ones that you’re thinking of.” He paused, then added, “Mostly his Dark Lords will be made of paperwork.”

“John... Mr. Marcone. I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation before us right now,” Dumbledore tried.

John stood up, leaned forward, and placed his hands on his desk quite deliberately. “I don’t think you understand,” John said quietly. “Harry is my son. He is everything to me. He is also a child. He is sixteen years old right now. If you think for even a minute that I believe that your people need a child to do what your armies can’t, then you’re out of your mind.”

“Our people can only do so much,” Dumbledore murmured. “Voldemort made many, many horcruxes. Seven, to be precise. We’ve dealt with most of them; only two remain. We believe one to be inside his snake, and the other, of course, we believe to be the one in your son-”

“The one in my son is gone. I’ve told you this. It was removed by my Harry’s godmother, a fae called the Leanansidhe. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?” John asked idly, trying his hardest not to lose his temper. It wasn’t working all that well, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t try.

Shooting the obnoxious old man in his office would only mean that he would have to refurnish the whole thing to get rid of the blood spatters, and he was rather fond of his office as it was. The old man wasn’t worth the effort.

“Fae are notorious for being able to manipulate a situation in the direction they so choose, Mr. Marcone. I don’t know that I would trust her to have actually removed the fragment of Voldemort’s soul, especially since there is no known way to remove such a thing without destroying the vessel.”

John smiled thinly, his patience wearing almost as thin as his smile. A few more minutes of this and he’d be calling an interior decorator. “You may say what you will, Headmaster, but the fact of the matter is that before she came, Harry had not slept in over a month and his scar was constantly split open. Once she left, he slept peacefully once he was finished with the nightmares of the visions he’d had, and his scar faded into nothingness. Trust me when I say, the horcrux is gone.”

Dumbledore leaned forward and said, “The prophecy-”

John’s patience snapped. “Harry is a child! He’s not a hitman! Now get the hell off my property before I have you thrown out,” John snarled. He was through trying to reason with this idiot. Clearly there was no reasoning to be done.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, and John closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were cold and very, very angry. He drew his gun once more, cocked it, pointed it at the old man’s head, and said shortly, “That rot in your arm looks like it’s going to kill you. Shall I see if I can do it faster?”

“I suppose I’ll see myself out, then,” Dumbledore said finally. He sounded even more exhausted than he’d looked when he’d come in.

John couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“Sigrun will show you out,” he said flatly in response, and then called for her. As the Valkyrie escorted Dumbledore from his office, John settled behind his desk. Perhaps it was time to contact Monoc Securities once more and see what he could do about getting more guards for Harry.

If this Voldemort really was going to come after Harry, well, John wanted to make sure that they were ready and waiting.

“He won’t, you know,” a light voice said from behind him.

John would have been surprised, but he honestly wasn’t. He’d said her name, after all, and Leanansidhe did like him. Not that Harry approved of their.. friendship, if one could use such a word when speaking of a being such as her.

“Who won’t?” he asked, and stood to turn and greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

Lea leaned against his desk and smiled at him. “That Voldemort fellow. When I took the piece of his soul from Harry, I gave it back to him in exchange for his promise to leave Harry and his family alone. Voldemort accepted my proposal.” The smile on her face said that it had likely been more of a threat than a proposal.

John smiled, and lifted one of her hands to his lips for a kiss. “My dear woman, the man would have to be far madder than he is to not accept a deal from a being such as yourself.”

Her laugh rang out like a bell. “Flatterer,” she murmured.

“Would you care to stay for dinner?” he asked.

Her lips twisted into a small pout. “What, so my dear godson can wonder at what trap I’m trying to set for him? No, John, I think not.”

“You wouldn’t be going off to threaten a certain old man, would you?” he asked, even as she began to disappear.

All that she left behind was her laughter.

John rolled his eyes and settled at his desk once again to start doing some of his paperwork. He had a mountain of it to get through and he wanted to at least finish some of it before dinner. The tap on the door stopped him before he could even begin.

“Why was Sigrun escorting the old man out?” Harry asked bluntly as he leaned against the door. “Also, don’t think that I didn’t hear my godmother laughing, because I did.”

John rolled his eyes. “The old man wanted to try and convince us to let Voldemort kill Harry because of the horcrux. I think your godmother is going to go and scare him the rest of the way to death. You know how she adores him.”

“She wouldn’t adore him if you didn’t encourage her to keep coming to family meals,” Harry grumbled. He stepped further into the office and let the door shut behind him. “Were you alone in here with the old man?”

“We spoke for a while, yes, and then I lost my temper and offered to kill him. He was less than impressed with my offer.”

“Huh.” Harry grinned at him, then, a quick thing that flashed over his face like lightning. “Maybe I should check you over for spell residue. Just to make sure that the old man didn’t do anything to you while you were alone with him.”

“Spell residue? Is that really a thing?” John asked.

Harry crossed the room and was on his side of the desk before he finished asking his question. “It might be. I think I should thoroughly investigate the situation just to make sure.”

“You always were an excellent investigator,” John said agreeably, and pulled him down for a kiss.

The two of them were very late for dinner, but that was okay. They were also rather mellow when Harry came in at seven o’clock in the morning, a little bloody and a lot roughed up. Apparently something had attacked the prom, and Harry and Molly had managed to put it down, whatever it had been. That didn’t account for the five or six hours that Harry had been gone, or the suspicious markings on his neck, but John supposed that those were just part of being a normal teenager.

And if there was anything that Harry deserved, it was a bit of normalcy. And normalcy also included being grounded, because situations like those were what cell phones were for.


	27. Epilogue

As Leanansidhe had promised, Dumbledore was wrong about what would happen to Harry in the end.

Voldemort never came for Harry, likely too afraid of whatever Lea had threatened him with to approach Harry. Or, perhaps he was simply too distracted by the Aurors and Hit Wizards trying to kill him in his own country to worry about a child who had long since fled to somewhere relatively far away. Eventually, John supposed, they succeeded. At least, the news articles coming out of wizarding Britain certainly seemed to indicate that was the case.

Harry did graduate from high school, not quite at the top of his class but close enough for John’s satisfaction. His grades were good enough to get him a handful of scholarships to a couple of different colleges. His abilities at soccer were enough to get him even more. Scholarships aside, of course he had his choice of any college in the country since John was more than willing to pay for whatever Harry wanted to do with his life. In the end, despite all of the options available to him, Harry chose to go to the University of Chicago where he majored in business. And yes, he played soccer for all four years. His old friend Hermione came to see him graduate, and told him that he’d been to get out of Hogwarts when he did. Apparently the Defense teacher who came in the following year had been enough for her to withdraw from the school as well, along with many of the other Muggle-born students. She’d rubbed the back of her hand as she’d spoken of the intolerable woman.

Molly, after some hemming and hawing and general complaining, wound up going to school with Harry, where she graduated with an entirely useless degree in Art History. When John asked her what the point was, she’d only smirked and told him that, “A, I was making sure that I kept my claim on your son, and B, I’m going to be a gangster moll. They don’t really need much in the way of brains.” She was laughing as she said it, and Harry had looked terrified. Rightly so.

They’d gotten married in the summer, six years after Harry had so hesitantly asked her to prom for their first date. John was unsure of who had proposed to whom, especially considering that Molly had been the one to purchase the rings and had thrown one at Harry before storming off in the middle of dinner one night. It had, perhaps, been the oddest proposal he’d ever seen and he still laughed to think of it. How could he not? Just the mention of it could send his own husband into gales of laughter. And his own Harry and Sirius both loved re-enacting the strange proposal, much to the younger Harry’s mortification.

The two got married on a Sunday in the summer.

ooOOooOOoo

“Are those allergies acting up again?” Harry asked quietly as he leaned against John during the reception to the most lavish wedding Chicago had seen in a few years. What could John say? His son deserved the best party money could buy. He’d fought with the Carpenters over it, but he’d won that particular battle. It was more than worth it, too, because Harry and Molly both looked simply radiant on their happy day.

“They definitely are,” John said agreeably, even as he sipped at his wine to clear the minor blockage in his throat. “God, they look so happy.”

And they did. They really did. Harry had finally, at the age of 20, had a growth spurt. He was now taller than Molly, and a bit broader too as he’d put on some muscle along with his height. He looked healthy, and nothing like the scrawny six-year-old that had cried when he’d been pulled out of a cupboard under the stairs. Hell, now he probably wouldn’t even fit under the stairs to begin with. And Molly was lovely. She’d let her blonde hair grow out, but she wouldn’t be Molly if it hadn’t been streaked with something, and in honor of their wedding, it was streaked with blue. Her mother had laughed as she’d helped her color it this time.

They both looked so happy, and John was struck by the feeling that, for once, he could be absolutely certain that he’d done something right. His life was filled with a lot of grey areas, but this. This was something he could be certain of.

“We did good, didn’t we?” he asked Harry.

“I think that’s a fair assessment,” Harry said cheerfully, then drew away from John. He stood, then, and extended his hand. “May I have this dance?”

John, laughing, took it.

Epilogue 2-

Dad had been retired for almost three years when Harry had his first major run-in with his past since Hermione had come to his graduation. He’d been negotiating a contract with a corporation overseas, and hadn’t realized that the company he was dealing with was a subsidiary of the Malfoy family until Draco Malfoy walked into the boardroom.

“Huh,” Harry said, and leaned back in his chair. Malfoy. His schoolboy rival. He’d certainly grown up a bit, and he looked every bit as startled to see Harry sitting in the boardroom as Harry was to see him. Finally, Harry grinned and said, “Good to see you, Malfoy. Have a seat. Let’s talk.”

Malfoy gingerly settled into his seat. “You’re not throwing me out of the boardroom?” he asked, apparently quite startled.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not! We were kids when you tried to mock me relentlessly. Why would I hold that against you now?” Harry shook his head, and said, “No, no, this is business. And while I doubt we’ll ever be friends, I can put aside our schoolboy childishness to get some of that done. Can you?”

Malfoy puffed up, full of the same arrogant pride he’d always had. “Of course I can!” he said.

What followed was a very lucrative conversation, if an exhausting one. It was clear that Malfoy expected him to go off at any moment, and Harry got sick of being treated like a ticking time bomb by people that didn’t know him.

Really, you shot one person for looking at your wife funny, and nobody ever looks at you the same. He just couldn’t win.

Although Molly had been entertained by it.

Speaking of the she-devil... “Who was that?” she asked as she wandered into the now-empty boardroom. “An old friend, perhaps?”

Harry snorted. “More like an old frienemy,” he said, and then realized what he said. He groaned and pretended like the words hadn’t just come out of his lips.

“Too late; I heard you say it!” Molly crowed, cackling. “I see that our darling Alex is infecting you with the language of schoolboys everywhere!”

Harry sighed. “I can’t help it,” he complained. “He just says the words and they seem to slip into his everyday speech, and now they’re slipping into my everyday speech, and I really don’t want to talk like an elementary schooler, Molls, I really don’t.”

“Well,” Molly began, and slid into his lap, “I suppose if it’s really bothering you to talk like an elementary schooler, you could always start talking like a baby instead.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute,” he started, and Molly grinned at him. She’d stopped her birth control almost half a year ago, and he’d been wondering if anything would happen this time.

“I’m pregnant!” she shrieked in his ear even though he’d already figured it out, and he didn’t even mind the temporary deafness because he was just as happy as she was.

He kissed her soundly on the lips, stood up, and danced her around the boardroom. This was something to celebrate. “We should go out to dinner. Get the granddads to watch Alex for the night and go celebrate,” he said cheerfully.

Molly grinned. “I think that could be arranged,” she said, and leaned in for another kiss. “But don’t you think that maybe we could practice for yet another little sibling for Alex right now? Or is it too soon for that?”

Harry’s face flushed and, even as he leaned down for a kiss he asked, “Just how many kids were you thinking of having, anyway?”

Her answer, breathed into his ear, made his eyebrows raise and his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, okay,” he said quietly. “I think I can work with that.”

It was just as they’d lost themselves kissing that the building across the street exploded. They parted reluctantly.

“Chances that this doesn’t involve magic?” Molly asked glumly, even as she reached for her staff, which she’d propped up against the wall when she’d entered the room.

“Pretty slim since I see blue and silver smoke coming from the green fire,” Harry answered cheerfully. “Shall we?” He offered Molly his arm.

“I guess we’d better,” Molly said with a sigh.

So much for celebration, but at least their life would never be boring.


End file.
